


Broken Pieces You Created

by WitherAndDecay



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Depression, Ed's too smart for Arkham, Emotions, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Oswald Cobblepot, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Know Anymore, Ivy mother's him, Lots of Hurt, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, S3 Ivy Pepper, Self Confidence Issue's, Self-Esteem Issue's, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-blaming, Slow Burn, Some comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, The burn is so painfully slow, The ship isn't exactly the main focus of this fic, There is plot I swear, This Has A Lot Of Issue's, Time Skips, Why Did I Write This?, apparently, slow healing process, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25182037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitherAndDecay/pseuds/WitherAndDecay
Summary: After being shot by Ed, due to his betrayal, Oswald began to go struggle with a deep depression. Oswald decided to leave Gotham in hopes to get over all the pain and destruction. He is accompanied by Ivy Pepper, who does everything she can to look after him.Oswald and Ivy return to Gotham some years later. Edward finds out and sets out to finish what he started. But it wasn't as he thought it was going to be, now wants to fix Oswald instead of kill him. The problem is, Oswald might not let him do that so easily.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Ivy Pepper, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 48
Kudos: 108





	1. What Happened To Oswald

**[TW, see tags]**

Ivy was looking after her plants when Oswald started to come to. He'd been out for nearly six weeks, on the account of Edward shooting him and dumping him in the Gotham river. Ivy had found Oswald washed up on the same river bank she had after falling into a pipeline, getting taken away by the strong current. Ivy was going back to take some water, try to find out if there was chemicals in it that had caused her major and sudden growth. She stumbled upon Oswald, and decided she was to take him back and help him out. At the time, he was almost dead.

"Well, look who's alive," Ivy says, perching on the side of the bed Oswald was resting on. Oswald gasps, sitting up lightning fast and in a panic.

"Who are you!?" Oswald pants.

"Ivy Pepper, you stupid," Ivy replied. 

Oswald swallows, takes in his surroundings then returns his attention to Ivy. "Do we know each other?"

"I pulled you out of the river," Ivy nods. "I've been nursing you for weeks. _So_ boring. You sleep a lot." 

Oswald pushes himself up into a better position, groaning in agony. "You look strange, like you're gonna puke, are you ok?" She asks. Oswald squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing hard again.

"Ed... he tried to kill me," Oswald remembers. 

"Didn't do such a good job at that, did he?"

Oswald sighs, remembering the pain of that event. The words, ' _I don't love you_ ,' ringing in his head. The sound and the pain of the gunshot. Although, the pain of heart break by the man he loved outweighed that. Tears began to prick Oswald's eyes. Now he had lost the only three people he had ever loved. His mother and father, murdered and his one true love wants and believes Oswald dead. 

"Are you sure you're ok?" Ivy starts again.

"I... have lost everything. The one person I had left to love, tried to kill me. My Empire, will no doubt be in the hands of another. I am a dead man, with no friends. No home to go to. No life to call my own. It's all gone," Oswald sniffed. 

"I'm not, uh, the best person to deal with an emotional crisis like this. I'm sorry, to hear all of that. Physical wounds I can treat, but mental wounds?" Ivy confessed, trying to lay a comforting hand to Oswald. He jerks away to deny it. Ivy retreats her hand, sighing.

"I've done this before. Of a sort. Lost everything. Got shot. Was found by some stranger and nursed back to health. I won't make the mistake of getting too friendly with _you_ , this time around," Oswald tore the blanket from his body and made an effort to stand, only to fall flat as soon as he put pressure on his legs. 

Ivy rushed round to help him back up. "Woah, you need to be careful. You may have been out for weeks, but you need rest. You need to heal. You should be dead," She says taking Oswald to help him back to the bed. 

Oswald sits, then swipes her hands away from him. "Fine. But this time, when I have healed. I am leaving Gotham. There is nothing left for me here," Oswald lays back down, pulling the blanket back over him.

Of all the things Oswald feels towards Edward, hate wasn't one of them. He was too consumed with sorrow to even think about revenge. It was the farthest thing from his mind. Oswald had felt no urge to hurt anyone, as he was hurting too much himself. He knew Edward would finally be happy with him gone, and he was alright with that. Despite what he did, Oswald still loved Edward. He left him more hurt than ever, and how does he react? By keeping his feelings. Oswald wasn't concerned with tracking Ed down and killing him. All he wanted, was to heal physically and then get away from the city that had caused him so much pain and loss. There was a time where he would fight to get back what he'd lost, but when that included the love of his life with no chance of ever getting it back, Oswald simply saw no point. The gunshot wound hurt, but the tear, the cracks, Ed had left in Oswald's heart hurt far more.

Oswald was plunged into a depressive mood. The regret about what he had done, being a weight tied to his ankles. The loss of his true love, flooding his whole body. The knowledge of that loss being permanent, drowning him. Oswald was drowning in that river. Though his body was pulled free, his mind was trapped there. The pain and despair, tormenting his every thought. The loss of Oswald's mother did take a heavy toll on him, but it was nothing compared to what he was going through this time.

Oswald had found that one true love his mother had told him about. Instead of running to him like he should have, Oswald had hurt him. And that was hurting Oswald in return. He wanted a second chance, to do things differently. To have told Ed about his feelings, instead of waiting. Not killing Isabella and betraying Ed. Hurting Ed. Causing Ed pain from two very different things. The loss of the woman he loved, and the betrayal of his best friend. 

The guilt was eating Oswald up from the inside. Guilt, regret, loss (of his own fault) and sorrow. They all built up, slowly turning into strong self hatred and perhaps even caused the loss of a will to live for Oswald. He ruined Edward's life, and now his life was being ruined for that. 

Oswald would sob occasionally. His eyes, red and puffy from the amount he would do so. Whatever food Ivy had made for him, Oswald would barely touch. Oswald would barely keep himself hydrated, all on the account of self punishment for what he had done to Ed. Oswald truly believed he deserved it. Ed should have given him farther punishment. He tried to kill Oswald too early, and that was too kind.

Ivy had to pick Oswald up and put him into a wheelchair just to make him get out and get some air. Oswald had refused to do so willingly, so that pushed Ivy to go to more drastic actions. Oswald began to sleep less. His physical appearance was deteriorating, and Ivy could see his mental health was too. Ivy would often prepare him Lemongrass and Lemon Verbena tea to help. Oswald would only ever take a few sips, then leave the rest.

Maybe Oswald was being difficult, but Ivy kept her patience with him. She couldn't begin to understand what he was going through, but she tried to be there for him despite not being friends. At least, that was how Oswald saw it. Ivy believed they were, given everything she was doing for him. Anyone else would have left him to die, or as soon as this destruction of his mental health had begun, they would have up and left him to deal with it alone. 

Due to his self punishment, it took weeks before Oswald had physically healed enough for him to leave. Ivy had gone out and bought him proper clothes to wear, instead of the shabby things the previous owners to that estate had. Ivy tried to get variety in colour, but Oswald refused to wear anything that would draw attention to himself. He couldn't even style his hair properly, he was so unconcerned about himself. Oswald didn't care how skinny he became, or about the dark bags under his eyes. He truly believed he deserved everything he was doing to himself, and more. Oswald tried to convince Ivy that she shouldn't be friends with him. 

However, over their time together Ivy had really grown to care for Oswald. His poor mental health was seriously concerning her, but she knew suicide was far from his mind all on the account of Oswald wanting himself to suffer. _All this, over losing one person_ , Ivy would often think. Maybe she was too young to understand, or maybe she had never been affected by the loss of a true loved one in the way Oswald had. 

Ivy had got him some dark eye make-up. If Oswald would do nothing to make those bags disappear, then Ivy would blend them in. At least make them look a little better. Ivy would sit Oswald still as she applied it all, and once she was done, he did look rather better. Not by a lot, but it was better. Ivy had even gotten him a new cane to use. Of course, this one didn't have a hidden blade, but Oswald didn't care. He was currently uninterested in the path he was on. He had told Ed it leads to nothing but pain and destruction, and he was right. Why couldn't he have listened to himself? Oswald should have left Gotham after Ed had helped him out, that way he would be spared from all of this.

He wasn't going to make that mistake again. It did take some time, but Ivy had made a profit from her plants and perfumes. Enough for her and Oswald to leave Gotham together. Ivy didn't feel like she could leave Oswald to fend for himself. Not with his current state of mind. Besides, Ivy's one other friend Selina had others by now.

So the time had come. Oswald and Ivy left Gotham together. They had moved to Starling City, the both of them being fully aware of the corruption in that city too. Ivy managed to get a big enough, cheap apartment for them both and started up her own enterprise with plants and perfumes again. Oswald, stayed at home near enough all the time. It had been almost two months since he had woken up at Ivy's place, and he still was being haunted by what he had done to Ed. All those feelings, still eating him up. Oswald did start to eat more, thought his sleep could still use some work. 

Oswald still missed Ed, dearly. Oswald still hated himself for what he did. Lack of sleep and eating became too weak of a punishment for himself though. Oswald felt he needed to seek out something more fitting, more drastic. Something Ivy didn't need to know about, wouldn't be able to help towards stopping. 

He considered harmful drugs, but that was a step too far. Way too far, Oswald had hated himself more for thinking of something so stupid. So when Ivy was out, managing her market, Oswald did a thorough search of their apartment looking for a good enough tool. After searching almost everywhere, Oswald had found what he thought was perfect. 

Given that Starling was also a relatively dangerous place, Ivy had been sure that there was always a gun in their home. But in case of the event that it wasn't available, Ivy had a butterfly knife hidden under a loose floorboard. Oswald had discovered it in his search for a good tool, and this knife certainly qualified.

Oswald took it from its hiding spot, and examined it carefully. It looked clean, almost knew in fact. There was no rust or dirt that could cause infections, so he was satisfied. His guilt and self hatred had eaten at him long enough, he needed to deal damage on the outside too. Emotional punishment was no longer enough to measure up to Oswald's mistakes. Edward wasn't around to torment, or torture Oswald physically. No-one willing was around to hurt Oswald more for what he did. No-one except Oswald himself.

He hurt the man he loved so cruelly. He lost everything he had all because of his mistake and jealousy. He deserved to be punished for it, not matter how long ago it was. Edward was happy believing Oswald was dead, and the fact he wasn't really dead gave him more reason to punish himself. Oswald had even denied Edward the one thing Edward deserved. The loss of everything Oswald once had was no longer powerful enough to cause Oswald hurt, in fact he was almost becoming numb to it. He still believed death was too good for himself, and seeing as how the things that used to cut deep were now only grazing, Oswald had to do something more.

Oswald truly hates himself. Edward wasn't around to punish him for destroying his life, so he had to do it himself. Oswald holds the knifes blade up to the light, watching how the silver metal shines. He rolls up the shirt sleeve of his left arm, turning it side to side considerately. How can he do this without Ivy catching him? Perhaps the forearm was too obvious. It's nearly always exposed after all, and Ivy would certainly be suspicious if Oswald started to have it covered at all times. He sits, considering his options for a couple more minutes. Then gives up. He can hide himself easily, it's not like Ivy regularly checks up on his body or stares at his arms. Maybe she doesn't even notice how often Oswald has his sleeves rolled up.

Oswald takes a deep breath, putting the cold knife to his skin. He holds it there a moment. Then with a shaky hand, he puts pressure onto the knife, slowly dragging it across. Oswald lets out his held breath, tears forming in his eyes. He had never felt such, relieving release. It was like some of those inner feelings were now pouring out in the form of the red liquid. Oswald breaks a tiny smile, satisfied. It felt good, deserved even. He does it again, and again. Slowly. He was being sure not to let all the emotions crash down and cause him to shred his arm with that knife. 

Satisfied with his work, Oswald cleans up his arm. He decided to bandage it so the blood wouldn't start up and seep through his white shirt. He will ask Ivy for black, or dark purple shirts from now on. He wiped the blood from the knife, slipping it back into it's hiding spot.

There were minor stinging pains in his arm now, but he dealt with it easily. Oswald made further use of this butterfly knife, teaching himself how to use it whenever he was bored at home. With Ivy getting sick of buying Oswald's essentials for him, she ordered him to start going out. He had been cooked up in that apartment for months, he needed to get out and see the world again. Oswald takes the knife for protection, playing around with it as he walks through every dark ally and sketchy street. 

Starling was by no means a highly dangerous place like Gotham, but it certainly wasn't lacking criminals and scum bags lurking in the shadows. So he keeps the knife tight and close. Although, he isn't sure he could really bring himself to hurt someone else again, let alone kill them. Knowing what doing that had done for him in the past, he couldn't let it happen again.

Luckily his first trip outside was safe. No-one harmed him, and he harmed no-one. In fact, no-body payed attention to him. It sure was odd, after living as the infamous Penguin for years. Having no-one recognise or know him brought his memory back to the days of being nothing more than Fish Mooney's umbrella boy. Oswald certainly isn't going to make the mistake of getting involved with the Mafia again, though. 

Ivy eventually pushed him to get a job. She was tired of making the money for both of them herself.

"Oswald, I know you dread life and the world right now, but you need to get something to occupy your time. Maybe working will even help your mental health," she proposed. Ivy had refrained from calling him Penguin or Pengy, since he had left that life behind.

"You know, it's hard for me. To try and live a normal life after the way I had it in Gotham. Besides, I don't think anyone would be looking to hire a reformed criminal, that is presumed dead," Oswald explains.

He raised a good point. Only criminals would hire another criminal, and Oswald wanted to leave that behind. No-one would hire someone with his record, and no-one would hire someone who is supposed to be dead. Ivy had no trouble operating in the criminal world, she made good profit from her perfumes and various other items. However, it wouldn't be good for Oswald to return to that sort of life. So Ivy let it slide.

Though, if he wasn't going to work outside, then he certainly would inside. Ivy made him the cook and cleaner. He had to make himself useful, after all. So while he was busy taking care of their home, Ivy was working on a little gift for Oswald. She was dead set on getting him over Ed. She knew that those events were heavy weights on Oswald's ankles, and that he was still suffering badly from it all. Maybe not just what happened with Ed, but everything that went wrong in Oswald's life. Ivy knows Oswald is never going to forgive himself for that pain he brought on his loved one, he's always going to try and punish himself for it. Unless he gets over it. Ivy was deter minded to make that happen.

She remained oblivious to Oswald's self harming habits, but was fully aware of his mental health struggles. She tried to convince him to see a therapist, talk to someone to remove some of the weight that prevented him from moving. Oswald never listened though. He was still too consumed with the need to cause himself hurt and punishment. Though now it wasn't just over ruining Edward's life, it was also for causing the deaths of his parents.

The time away from Gotham was supposed to remove those thoughts from his mind. Getting away from the pain and destruction was supposed to make his depressive mood subside. Oswald's love for Edward was supposed to vanish, but it remained. Oswald's mental health was supposed to get better, but it kept deteriorating, albeit at a slower pace. 

Ivy took on the roll of big sister soon enough, however. She would make Oswald Lemongrass tea twice a day, and even purchased some anti-depressants for him. Oswald didn't trust them though, since they weren't bought from a pharmacy but a local drug dealer. Ivy would make sure Oswald always had at least eight hours of sleep every night, and kept him well fed. 

Their first year in Starling was bumpy, but they soon found a rhythm for their lives. Ivy became very successful in her market, she even managed to make hallucinogenic drugs from her plants. They blew up, and became high in demand. Oswald wasn't very pleased with Ivy's current life choice, but she knew it was easy money and enjoyed working with her plants. It maybe wasn't the best use for them, but it what she wanted to do. Using some of the money she had made, she had a new record forged for Oswald. No criminal history, no time in Arkham Asylum, and most certainly not dead. 

She presented it to him on his birthday, and he felt as thrilled as he could. Now the grief over the conflict with Ed had turned into Oswald missing him dearly. He had cut down drastically on the self harm, and finished every last drop of tea Ivy makes him. He still felt a large lack of purpose, and still hated himself impeccably. His arms were awfully scarred from the shoulder down to the halfway point of his forearms. Ivy still had no knowledge of Oswald's habits. He used strong masking cream to cover them up.

Despite still wanting himself to suffer, he also wanted himself to get better. So using the knew record and identity Ivy had got him, Oswald got a job in a kitchen in a Hungarian restaurant. He felt better, staying away from the criminal life. It was doing him some serious good. Ivy was proud of him. Oswald still carried his butterfly knife around with him, at this point he had mastered it, in case someone tried to cause him harm. 

That is just what someone did, one fateful night after his shift. He was limping on home, when someone emerged from the shadows pushing him up against a wall, demanding all the cash he had. Oswald struggled to get his knife from his pocket. When he did, it didn't do him much good. He flicked it open, demanding the lowlife scumbag back off. He pressed it to the mans throat, demanding he let him go. Since Oswald hadn't threatened anyone in quite some time, he was actually terrified. His hands, then arms started to shake due to his nerves.

The attacker backed off, making Oswald fairly relieved. Though as one final attempt to rob Oswald, the man swung his own knife at him. Oswald turned his head in order to dodge the attack, but his right eye got caught and slashed. He fell to the ground, gripping his eye and yelling out in agony. His attacker took the opportunity to take whatever cash Oswald had, then ran away, leaving him to bleed out alone and in pain. 

Oswald cut off part of his sleeve, scrunching it up and pressing it to his eye to act as a bandage. When he returned he told Ivy everything. She was terrified, worried and angry. She set Oswald down on the couch, in order to do her best at patching up the damage. However, what she did was not enough. Oswald's eye was done for. So Ivy raised more money from her business, increasing the prices of her products, and saved it all to get Oswald surgery in order to repair some of the damage on his eye.

It took a lot of time and money, but Oswald's eye was repaired to the best of their abilities. It was no longer a matching colour, and had sight issue's. He could see out from it, but in order to see clearly he had to use a monocle. He felt it was ridiculous, made him look old, so he barely wore it unless he absolutely _had_ to. 

It was during his surgery that Starling General had crafted Oswald a brace for his damaged leg. It couldn't be repaired, but the brace would help his movements and ease up some of the pain when pressure was put onto it. 

It was this event that had made the fury return in Oswald. He didn't rest, until he ended the man that had destroyed his eye. Though once he did, the emptiness soon refilled him. Killing this man didn't satisfy him the way he thought it would. The way killing used to. Instead, he cursed himself for destroying yet another persons life. Why was this all he seemed to do? Destroy people's lives. Oswald never returned to his job, either.

He was once again, drowning in those feelings. He hadn't killed in nearly two years, and it was horrifying. How could he once have done this and enjoyed it? It was that life that had caused him ruin, and he goes and does it again.

All of Oswald's current feelings weren't helped however, when both him and Ivy saw the news broadcast of Gotham's destruction. Some psychopath had destroyed the Gotham bridges, causing the city to be nothing but a disconnected island. Oswald was consumed with worry and fear for Edward's life. After all this time, he still loved him and still cared for his safety.

Ivy was no so much affected by the news, since she had nothing left in Gotham. Of course, she was concerned for all the people trapped there, but not to the same extent as Oswald over Ed. He almost wanted to go back, see it all for himself and perhaps even save Edward. It was nerve racking for him, not knowing what fate Ed had met. Was he alive? Was he alright? Did he get seriously harmed? Ivy found his concerns a little ridiculous considering how much time it had been since they were there. How much time it had been since Edward had 'killed' Oswald. Why did he still care so much?

Of course this caused Oswald more guilt. He started to believe, if he hadn't hurt Ed he could have been there and protected him. For a time he thought maybe leaving Gotham was a mistake, but Ivy quickly snapped him out of that. Oswald remained anxious for Gotham's situation, though glad he wasn't there to be involved in it.

By their third year in Starling, Oswald's self harm had ceased to a halt though he still suffered from the depression. It may not have been as bad, and it takes time for such a mental health issue to subside. It was still there nonetheless.

Ivy's business was still booming, and with the money she had made, she bought the pair an actual house. It was much better than their tiny apartment, Oswald felt he had more privacy here. Ivy made sure it came with a conservatory for her plants, and she manufactured her perfumes there. She stopped with the hallucinogens after a few reports of people dying due to them. Of course, nobody knew who was the creator of the drugs so she was let off. 

The pair had developed a strong, sibling like relationship and Oswald decided to help Ivy with her business. She sold some magic mushrooms again for a time. Oswald had the idea to sell some poisons. He knew how often people looked for good quality poison, and how successful it could be. Ivy took it into deep consideration, then sold some prototypes for a week to see how well it would do.

Starling was a good place for them to operate anonymously, so when Ivy's lethal poison 'Nightshade' caught the attention of the police, the pair were never found out. It became popular in the black market, and the pair made a huge profit from it. Though Ivy decided to stop producing it after some months.

Oswald confessed to missing the criminal life, then the idea for them to open a club to sell Ivy's products from, came to his mind. He did enjoy the night club business, and it would be a good place to sell from. He was hopeful that it would be a success when Ivy agreed to give it a try. 

It was during this period that Oswald's thoughts about Edward had ceased to occur. He would still have the odd dream and memory here and there, but he wasn't harming himself over it anymore. Oswald believed he no longer felt anything towards the man. As far as he was concerned, Edward was just a bad memory. Nothing more. 

Without mentioning it, Ivy was proud that Oswald never spoke of Edward again. She wasn't aware of the one thought about once every few weeks though. Sometimes Oswald even forgot that he remembered Ed. Ivy had eventually realised Oswald was mentally healing. His health was getting better. He actually started to take care of himself properly. He started doing his hair in a new fashion. Neatly styled up. They both agreed that Oswald's monocle didn't go with it, so Ivy had some special glasses made for him. One lens suitable for the damaged eye, and the other just normal glass. It looked much better, she even had a pair made in red.

Oswald felt much like himself for the first time in five years, he had a special celebration for Ivy to thank her for everything she had ever done for him. She was thrilled to gave gained the title of big sister, despite her being much, much younger. After all, she did everything she could to take care of a man she didn't even know. She put up with him through a really difficult time, and Oswald was eternally grateful to her for that. 


	2. The Return

It was five years, eleven months and eight days since Oswald and Ivy left Gotham. Since Oswald had not thought about that life, or Edward Nygma, in a good chunk of time, he felt like he could go back. After all, they were only here in Starling to help Oswald get over all of that. Though his depression and self hatred still linger, he thinks he is ready.

Oswald decided to confront his best friend about this. He prepared them a special meal, Ivy's being all vegetarian of course. When asked what it was all about, Oswald waited until they were done eating before discussing.

"So," Oswald started. "It's been a fair amount of time. As you know, my mental health is getting much better and I'm getting back into this sort of life style."

Ivy takes a sip of her orange juice. "You want to return to Gotham." It wasn't a question, but a statement. 

"I feel, it's time," Oswald nods. 

"We have it good here Ozzie. We have a successful business, we make lots of money," Ivy argues. 

"I know that. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss Gotham. We may have been living in Starling for six years, but Gotham is still my home... It's where I want to die, like my mother and father did," Oswald explains. 

Ivy crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair. "What is there in Gotham, for us?"

"Perhaps our business would be more successful. The city is more corrupt, meaning more people who would demand our products. We could make money faster," Oswald suggested. 

"I think it's alright as it is here," she shrugged. 

"We wouldn't need to hide anymore. I'm not even a real person in this city. I do miss being able to operate in plain sight." 

Ivy considers this. Yes, they have made a lot of profit from her creations, but does she even get credit for that? No. Because they do it anonymously, anybody could step forward and take credits for her work. She hated to admit it, but maybe Gotham was the best place to continue the business and not have some faker take the credit for it.

"You make a good argument, Ozzie. I agree it would be better for us if we do this in the open. Take credit for the work. I suppose, we can try it out for a bit. However, if we get busted or I don't like it anymore we are moving back here," Ivy stands, taking the used dishes to be washed up. 

"Thank you, Ivy. It means a lot that you want to take a chance for me," Oswald smiles. 

It takes a few weeks, but Ivy is able to successfully stop the Starling operations. She purchased an estate in Gotham under her name and had some of her people re-open the business there. It only takes a few days before it is up and running.

Once everything was set up in Gotham, Ivy hires some movers to take their belongings and gets train tickets for herself and Oswald to travel. The city had changed so much. The destruction of the bridges and whatever happened during that had obviously had a serious impact. There was still a fair amount of buildings under re-construction, Wayne Tower being the most obvious one. The pair of them are both really curious about what went on in the City during that crisis.

They finally arrive at their new home, a much larger estate compared to their home in Starling. Ivy had someone looking after that place in case they ever needed to return. The ground floor was just a basic entrance. The first floor was the club to cover up their operations. The second floor was where the dealings happened, third floor where everything was manufactured and finally the fourth floor where Ivy and Oswald would live.

They had their two separate bedrooms with their own personal bathrooms attached, and a kitchen diner, with a respectable amount of space. Ivy voted they paint it green but Oswald was much more partial to purple, since it had become his signature colour. They settled on doing one half green and the other half purple. The next matter was to name their business. They didn't need to deal with that before, as it was anonymous, but now they want credit and recognition for their work. They wanted to be the known go-to for the criminal drug needs. 

Ivy's first suggestion was boring. She thought simply, 'Ivy and Oswald's'. Oswald didn't like it. Then they thought about naming it after some type of plant, when the idea struck Oswald.

"What about 'Poison Ivy'?" Oswald suggested. 

"Poison Ivy," she echoed. 

"Yes. It includes both a deadly plant, which we use a lot of, and your name."

"But what about you?"

"We both know it's you doing most of the work anyways. It was originally your idea too."

Ivy agreed with the name. Their business was to be called, 'Poison Ivy'. Oswald was to run the cover up club, and Ivy to run the real deal. It took time for word to spread about the products and where it could be bought. At first, they only let the criminals with a qualified good record buy their produce. They knew these people would be the most considerate with their items, wouldn't abuse them and would get the word out quickest if it was a success.

They started off with the basic perfumes again, as a test. Then the stimulants. Oswald suggested using the lemongrass, and other plants, to make anti-depressants. Maybe those one's weren't just for criminal benefit. If they were just doing lethal products, the could get shut down fast. If they sell beneficial drugs and plants too, it could be really good for their image. Ivy agreed it was a good idea, and got to work immediately on it.

Of course there was another reason for Oswald putting forward anti-depressants. He still had those issue's lingering around. He would often examine his scarred arms while he showered and bathed. He never felt ashamed of himself for doing those things, instead felt he should have done more to punish himself for his mistakes, and the pain he brought to others lives. A few of his scars were raised, you could feel them if you were to run a finger down his arms. Though scarred tissue is a lot more sensitive than regular tissue, the skin on his arms had become quite tough. Tolerable to the slices he'd deliver.

Sometimes when he looked at them, he thought a lot about Edward. He would never admit or tell anyone that he missed that man so much. Part of him was hoping that Ed would come here looking for something, if he survived the crisis those years ago.

Though not a single one of their customers and patrons recognised Oswald. As far as Gotham was concerned, The Penguin died six years ago. In a way, he did, because Oswald didn't resume that title. He left it behind. Maybe he never was a significant person. Maybe he hadn't left a mark on the city like he thought he had. Oswald knew no-one really liked him, but so much to the point people barely remembered his existence? That had never occurred to him. It only makes him hate himself more. Oswald feels he will never stop, but at this point he's ok with that.

Ivy still made him a cup of lemongrass tea on a daily basis. In doing this, another idea sprang forward in Oswald's mind.

"Why don't we sell tea?" he suggested. 

"Plenty of places sell tea. I don't know if it would be a big hit. Especially with the name 'Poison Ivy' on the front of the product," she replied. 

"Perhaps they could be under a different name? I know you make special tea's, Ivy. I think it would be a good thing to try," Oswald insists. 

"Ok, well, you come up with a name to sell the tea's under and we can do it," she offered. 

Oswald agreed, then began to work up a name for the new products. What was both inviting and catchy? What suited tea? Oswald was in deep thought about it that same afternoon when Ivy interrupted him, presenting a new customer.

This person, Oswald unfortunately recognised. A former worker of his, Gabriel. Ivy was letting the man examine their products, presumably because he wanted to buy something. _How on Earth is that moron still alive? And what the hell is he doing in a place like this?_ Oswald thought to himself. He wasn't sure if he was ready for someone to see him, so he did the first thing that came to mind. He slammed one of the couch cushions over his face. It was a stupid idea, but the only one he had in the moment. 

Ivy saw Oswald with the cushion over his face, and legs tucked up to his chin on the couch. She assumed he was having a little sob session he had from time to time so she let him be. After Gabriel left with his purchase, Ivy sat with Oswald asking what the matter was.

Oswald explained he simply didn't want to be recognised. He thought he was ready to handle it, but upon seeing a familiar face, he panicked. He didn't treat Gabe too nicely, he was worried he'd want revenge over it. Oswald was still uncomfortable when it came to harming and killing people. Ivy promised she would warn Oswald if he were to ever return, which made him relax a little bit.

He was still going to be seen given the fact he ran the cover up club on the floor below. He was surprised not a single person that attended recognised him, yet he was also thankful for it. Sometimes he would think returning to Gotham was a mistake and curse himself for wanting to come back. Though his path was different, the way the city felt wasn't. Sometimes the memory of the pain that was brought to him would flood his mind, which would lead to the memories of his beloved Edward.

How could he still have feelings for that man after six years? Was Ed even still alive? Did he remember Oswald if he was? How would he react to Oswald being alive after all this time? It was these sort of thoughts that pushed Oswald into a sobbing fit. Then it was followed by the fear the Ed would hunt him down and end him for good.

Perhaps Oswald really wasn't ready to be living in Gotham once again. He didn't even realise that he'd picked up the habit of biting his lips. It was only brought to his attention when Ivy had told him to stop it.

Later, following that same afternoon, Oswald was met with another familiar face while the club was open. He was lingering in his little corner when he saw her. Upon seeing her, a wave of panic was sent through his mind. It was Tabitha Galavan, the woman who murdered his mother, and also hated Oswald too. He silently started to freak out, looking around for Ivy for support. He never spotted her. He prayed and prayed that Tabitha wouldn't see him. He should have expected her arrival at some point, after all she ran a night club of her own too.

Though actually seeing her in person again, after everything she did. It terrified Oswald more than he could have anticipated. Just trust her to be checking out the latest club. Probably jealous of the competition, if she was still in that business anyway. Oswald wonders if she still worked with Ed. He knows she hated him, after all, Ed did mutilate her. But that was ages ago, maybe she was over it. Maybe they did work together, along with Barbara and that ape, Butch.

Oswald kept his attention on Tabitha. She was lingering around the stair way that lead to their other room of operations. It was upon realising that, that Oswald saw another woman, dressed in all black, and a mask make her way up the stairs. Well that wasn't good. He fished out his phone and started to call Ivy.

He warned her that there was a mysterious woman sneaking up the stairs. She said she'd be on alert, then let out a small yelp. Oswald heard the phone clatter to the ground. He wanted to rush up there and help, but Tabitha was in the way. She would surely notice him if he made for the stairs, and god only knows what she would do if she saw him alive.

He prayed his red tinted glasses were working as an ok disguise. He certainly never wore glasses before hand, so if he was lucky Tabitha wouldn't recognise him too easily while he had them on. Maybe his new hair style contributed towards a minor disguise too. He was skinnier too. So maybe these factors hid him from the people who would recognise him. Oswald wanted more than anything to hide, or help Ivy, but he was so terrified of the woman on the opposite side of the room that he couldn't move. He felt glued to the spot. All he could do was watch with caution.

Finally, _finally_ , Tabitha moves away from the stair way, edging toward the exit. Oswald moves as fast as he could to the stairs in order to help Ivy. Thought he most certainly does not expect what he finds. She's chatting with the other woman. Then it strikes him. Ivy must have known this person. He stood there like an idiot, watching the two chat. He assumed it was friendly, being unaware that the other woman had a knife pointed towards Ivy's gut. He fidgets in his position, keeping his gaze fixated on whatever he could see of them both. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but then Ivy had a wave of panic wash over her face. 

This made Oswald panic too. She was clearly in danger, and what could he do? He clenched his fist, tightly, over and over, wondering what he could do. Ivy then grabbed a bag and shoved some of the vials of perfumes into it, aggressively handing it over to the other. When she turned, Oswald panicked more, hiding behind the door so as not to be seen. He waited a minute, then once he was sure she was gone, he went to talk to Ivy. 

"Are you alright?" he swallowed. 

"I'm fine. She just... was here to rob us. Of course I wasn't going to let that happen, but she threatened me. She held a knife to me... I assume you saw?"

Oswald nodded, ashamed that he made no attempt to help. "I thought you knew her... I'm _so_ sorry I didn't help you out. I was too scared. I'm such a pathetic coward," he confessed. 

"It's alright Ozzie, there was nothing you could have done to help," Ivy placed her hands gently on Oswald's shoulders, an attempt to provide reassuring comfort. 

"I saw Tabitha Galavan downstairs. The woman who killed my mother... Her and the masked woman were here together. I was too scared to make a move in case she saw me. I don't know what she'd do if she found me alive. That's another thing I didn't take into consideration," Oswald told. 

Ivy pulled Oswald into a comforting hug, telling him it was alright. He still felt ashamed that he didn't help. That he let fear take over his mind and body. What was his inability to protect the ones he cares about? At least Ivy wasn't really hurt. Though Oswald was still furious with himself for being unable to do anything to stop her attacker. He truly was pathetic, wasn't he?

The pair decided to be safe, and ban Tabitha Galavan from attending their club from now on. She may not have been the one to threaten Ivy, but she was an accomplice. Neither of them knew who did because she wore a mask the entire time. They didn't put bans on anyone they knew Tabitha was previously involved with because they didn't know if they were all still in contact. So, Barbara Kean for example could walk right in without an issue. Oswald was relatively alright with that, as long as she remained threatless. He still didn't have it in him to hurt another person. At least not on purpose or for fun.

Luckily they didn't need to deal with a return, because after that incident, Tabitha never came back. Perhaps she knew she was banned, or something else. It made them both wonder what she wanted with the perfume that night. Was she even aware of it's capabilities? Who was she looking to manipulate? Make susceptible to suggestion?

Oswald began to think that doing their operations on Gotham was a bad idea after all. Someone had already managed to rob them. Well, sort of. He began to worry how long it would be before the GCPD came to investigate their place. Ivy had a licence, albeit fake, to sell the products. That wouldn't stop them from finding Oswald alive, and physically well. They may arrest him for his previous crimes even though he left that life behind. Granted, he's still doing a form of illegal operation, but he's not killing, torturing, manipulating etc. Oswald truly tried to be better, knowing what his dark path had caused him. He feared being thrown into Arkham or Blackgate. Sometimes, he truly wished they had never left Starling. Oswald didn't need to fear for his life or safety there.

Ivy's business had become more successful, but at what cost? Oswald was still hiding from the world. He hadn't left the estate since they arrived out of fear of someone recognising him, attempting to kill him and such. What was it about Gotham City that had managed to draw him back in? Or maybe it wasn't even the city itself, rather a certain individual occupying it. At least Oswald hoped he was alive. A part of him wanted to go looking around the city to find out. Of course, this part, these thoughts, were suppressed. Oswald wasn't actively aware that they were there, but they were. 

Oswald truly believed all he felt for Edward had vanished. Coming back to Gotham was also supposed to act as the final push, to keep them out. Oswald hoped that the reminder of that pain and destruction would prevent him from ever feeling for Edward. It was working for him, he thought. All he felt for that man, with his knowledge that is, was fear. He was terrified of Edward Nygma. The man had outwitted him, causing him to lose everything he had, wound up getting shot and dumped in a river.

Edward destroyed that part of Oswald's life, though Oswald had destroyed Ed's first. It was only fair. Oswald believed he deserved everything he got.

So was coming back to Gotham the best decision? Did Oswald really need that extra push? If he were to be honest, the main reason he wanted to come back was because he missed the place. Sure their time in Starling was great. It was almost the most at peace he had been in a while. But Gotham was in his veins. He belonged here, so staying away for longer was just delayed the inevitable. Oswald would have returned one day, so it was sooner other than later. 

Maybe in order to get over his fear of this place, however, he needed to let everyone know he was still alive? Hiding in his home all this time hadn't done anything to push it from his mind. So maybe, really facing what scared him would help. He made a lot of enemies, for sure.

What was his best option? Let word get out naturally, or do it himself? Should he let someone he recognises see him, or announce it to the entire city? What was ultimately going to wipe those fears from his mind? 

It bothered Oswald quite a bit. He became fairly anxious, and with their operations becoming more popular he saw more and more familiar faces. Lots of people who had previously worked for him. People he didn't treat too nicely. Ivy had suggested he take a break from managing their club, in order to help is nerves settles. Oswald had argued that hiding wouldn't help, he needed to fight it from the source.

Though being recognised by anyone was a large fear for Oswald, it was what being recognised _meant_ for him that ultimately terrified him. If everyone knew he was alive, in the city, Edward would know too. Any thoughts of encountering Edward terrified Oswald. He believed it was because what the man did to him, but in truth he was terrified in case his suppressed feelings resurfaced, and it managed to weaken and bring him down once again. 

Another thing that bothered him was not knowing whether his greatest fear was still alive. It nagged at him so much, at one point he was tempted to seek the answer from the GCPD criminal records. Though if he were to do that, word would get out _fast_ and if Edward was alive he would surely go looking for Oswald. 

Oswald was not used to all the uncertainty, constantly being on alert, and the over all terror, that Gotham City gave. He cursed himself for coming back, but he ultimately knew that it the outcome would be good. The current effects, not so much. 

So his mind was settled. He had been back for a month. He thought long and hard about what he wanted for a whole week. He knew what was going to put his mind to some relative ease.

"Ivy," Oswald started. "I need your help with something."

"Sure Ozzie, anything."

"I-I need Edward Nygma's criminal record," he stated. 

"What?" Ivy demanded. 

"It's... I've become quite bothered recently. With the lack of knowledge of his... living, status. Basically I need to know if he's dead or alive. It may put my worries at ease."

Ivy understood, then set out to have someone retrieve the file for him. Given that the GCPD had upped their form of security; they had more trustworthy, not-so-corrupt cops employed, all on the account of Commissioner James Gordon, as it turned out. It was a difficult task to retrieve the file. Though it went against every new thing Oswald stood for, Ivy had someone use her perfume to get it. 

Oswald was determined to do his tasks cleanly, but it seems as though that was already ruined. They got the file in the end. Oswald didn't look at it right away, he couldn't bring himself to. So he waited. He was having a restless night, the uncertainty agitating his mind. He gave up, pulled the file out of the drawer he stuffed it in and sat with it on his bed.

He stared at it unopened for a few moments, biting his bottom lip. Now that his answer was right in front of him, Oswald wasn't sure if he could bring himself to really find out. He became unsure if he really wanted to know. But it was this fear, this uncertainty that had ultimately pushed him to get this file. Oswald inhaled sharply. Took his shaky hands, gripping the file tightly. He pinched it's first page, ready to flick it open. He released his breath, and flung the cover open.

Oswald was met with Edward's mugshot. God, it had been so long since he saw that face. Although, right next to Edward's name was his alias. The Riddler. Oswald had no knowledge of that, so was reasonably surprised to see it.

"How long did he have to think about that one?" Oswald chuckled quietly. He was rather unimpressed by his choice. He scanned over the page, landing on Ed's current status. Alive, and incarcerated in Arkham. Though Oswald was thoroughly relieved at this, his curiosity piqued. He read through all of Edward's known crimes, what had lead him to get caught and thrown back into that dump. 

"Oh, Mister Nygma. What have you done?" Oswald muttered to himself as he read over the exceedingly long list. ' _The murder of Oswald Cobblepot_ ' made him chuckle to himself. What had lead Edward to get caught was the downfall of his sanity. It was recorded that he had snapped, for unknown reasons, then attempted to blow up the entire GCPD. Of course it had failed, and he was nabbed. That was... four years ago. Edward had been in Arkham for four years. Well, it was four years, three months. 

With his mind put at ease, knowing the one he feared could not physically harm him, Oswald set the file away and settled into a deep sleep. He rest easily for the first time in almost two weeks. He was safe. Edward couldn't hurt him. Everything was alright. The fear, the panicking, had all been for nothing.


	3. Cobblepot Is Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait a few more days before releasing this chapter but... um... oops?  
> Also, trigger warning.

The results Oswald had gained had truly set him at ease. The next few days he was a lot more calm, he didn't freak out so bad when he saw yet another familiar face. Everything was going to be alright, because Edward wasn't going to come after him, wasn't going to try and hurt or kill him. Ivy was pleased with his peace of mind, though didn't stop with preparing his daily tart cherry and chamomile teas. Everything was starting to smooth out. Oswald still played around with his butterfly knife, wary of the people that attended his club. Flicking and twisting it around did help distract Oswald from his nerves a great deal too. Since he no longer had his cane, that knife was also his greatest means at last minute protection. He had a slip for it applied to his leg brace.

Oswald was fidgeting with it one morning, as he read the newest paper, drinking a morning cup of tart cherry tea. Oswald turned a page, choked on his drink upon seeing the subtitle. 

_Reported sightings of the infamous Penguin_

Oswald set his knife and drink down, scanning over the page intensely. He was incredibly wrong when he assumed no-one had recognised him. There were several reports of people seeing him in his club. It included one report of him walking around in the street, which was so untrue considering Oswald had still not left the safety of his estate.

Well, he immediately called for Ivy to get her to have a look. She came swiftly, thinking Oswald had been hurt. She was confused to see he was perfectly fine, sitting unharmed at their dining room table. Ivy huffed, making her way to see what his yelling was over. 

"Read this," he said pointing to the page with the listed sightings of him. 

"All of the sources are anonymous," Ivy noted. 

"Of course they are, but I am not concerned about that. I am concerned, that people will know I am alive. And living here."

"It's all allegedly. They can't prove that you are alive based off a few anonymous reports," she told. 

"How long before the GCPD come here to investigate though?"

"Don't worry about it Ozzie. It was bound to happen eventually. You can't stay a ghost in this city forever, not when you were as well known as you were," Ivy assured. 

Oswald sighed, shoving the paper on the table surface. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temple. Ivy placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, offering a smile. He looked to her, returning it. Ivy had always managed to be so supportive of Oswald, despite her young age. Oswald was under the impression that teenage girls were a handful, but Ivy wasn't. She had an excitable nature, yes. But she wasn't so disobedient, and trouble making like Oswald's mother had made out teenage girls to be. Oswald had often forgot her real age too, given the fact Ivy now looked thirty. He was still really thankful to have her in his life. 

"So... do we let them come and investigate, do we wait and see what happens, or do I announce myself to the city?" Oswald queried. 

"Give it time. Maybe the reports will stop. If not, then perhaps you should announce yourself. We don't want the GCPD coming here and investigating our business," Ivy put in. 

That's just what Oswald did. He gave it time. He didn't try to hide himself, but he did start wearing his red glasses more often. He was well aware they didn't do much to hide his identity, but he didn't care. He stuck to his deep purple suits, other than his shimmery purple one. He wanted to blend in more, but not hide. Oswald had the hopes no-one would pay all that much attention to him if he just looked like a common person. What was it that had really given him away though? He doesn't walk with a limp or a cane. He does his hair a completely different way. Wears glasses, or monocle depending on how he felt. His clothes didn't make him stick out. So just what was it?

Reports kept filling in that section of the paper however. They all seemed to be the same. People catching him lingering around that booth inside the club. It had Oswald confused. If all these people who recognised him _did_ , then why didn't they talk to him? What was with that? Then he realised it was probably turning into a conspiracy. A few people reported seeing him, and it was true. Then others had the idea to do the same, but had not been true. Oswald was then convinced that well over half of the reports were false. Just people participating in a conspiracy, nothing more. 

The revelation had brought him some mild peace of mind. The tension all the reports caused, made Oswald play with his knife a great deal more. Every time he was in the club, he had it out. Swinging, flicking, twisting it. It was _always_ in his hand when he was out. Though he still didn't have enough confidence to actually go outside, in the streets. No. Their estate was his safe haven. No-one could get to him in there. 

Well it the safe area was about to shrink, as one morning when Oswald read over the new false reports, he saw that one of his sight-ers had decided to name themselves. Oswald didn't even realise that she had came into the club. He never saw her. The report was a little more detailed. Oswald standing by the staff only booth in the top left corner of the club. He was wearing red sunglasses, a dark purple suit, hair neatly styled up and twisting a butterfly knife in his right hand. The sight was reported by Selina Kyle. 

So now there was a named witness, the GCPD had enough to question her. With that, they could conduct an investigation and find him there, alive. Oswald couldn't wrap his head around why Selina would send in a sighting. What on Earth would that girl get out of it? But he remembered, some time ago she was some sort of acquaintance with Barbara Kean. So maybe it was a way of sending a message. He knows that woman hated his guts. Maybe this was a way of saying that they knew where he was and they were coming for him?

That thought certainly left Oswald unsettled. He refused to leave their living quarters, in order to hide and stay safe. He didn't know whether the whole crew would go inside and search the grounds for him, so he really wanted to play it safe. Stay in his bedroom if he had to. He confronted Ivy about the discovery, and she agreed that he should remain in their apartment for his own safety. Ivy was going to be managing the club that night.

Despite having extra eyes planted around the place, Ivy never saw any sign of anyone who was previously involved with Barbara and Selina. With that, she shrugged it off, told Oswald he was overreacting and that nothing bad was going to come of it. He agreed he was probably too startled over it, he jumped to too high a conclusion. It had been six years after all. He doesn't know if those people are alive, and don't know if they would even care if he was. He thought it was stupid and selfish to automatically assume they wanted to hurt him. Not everything had to be about him. 

Even though Ivy and Oswald believed it was perfectly safe, Oswald still spent the next evening in the safety of their apartment. He has the idea that they weren't after him at all, but it didn't stop the fear lingering in his mind. He felt it better to be safe than sorry or in this case, better safe than potentially dead. Then the thought that maybe they wanted him to hide came into play. Perhaps that was a way of frightening him into hiding, either so they could know for sure it was him, or so they could get him alone to end him. 

Well Oswald didn't need to think about that outcome too long. He threw on some better looking clothes, then made his way into the club with the safety of Ivy by his side. Sometimes he thought it odd he felt so safe around a twenty year old woman but Ivy provided a comfort Oswald had only ever found in his mother. There was a family like bond between the pair. Oswald pushed his way through the crowd, almost gluing himself to Ivy in the staff only booth. He explained his startling thought to her. She felt it was ridiculous, but would never actually _say_ that to Oswald. Ivy knew he wouldn't hurt her, it was because she thought it could hurt _him_. He already thinks badly enough of himself, so saying a thought of his was ridiculous would do nothing to help that. 

Regrettably, Oswald never left Ivy's side that night. It turned out there was people there looking for him, just no-one he recognised. That was revealed when two mornings after, there was a list of thirteen sightings from that night. Many of them decided not to report anonymously, so now the GCPD had enough witnesses to conduct an investigation. There was no doubt that they would be going to do just that, the very same day. 

Oswald apologised profusely to Ivy for allowing this to happen. He, of course, blamed himself entirely. If Ivy were to be arrested and sent to Blackgate, it would all be on him. If her life was ruined, it would all be on him. Ivy tried to convince him he was wrong, but Oswald wouldn't have it. He said she should get out of his life before her own would be ruined on the account of his mistakes. Ivy understood this was just a weak moment for him. He still has them from time to time, where he would break down and cry over everything he ever did wrong. It mostly included allowing his parents to die, and costing him his true love. This time it was all about how he was an awful person, that Ivy's life was certainly going to be done for with him in it. 

She let him sob, making him some comfort tea. Ivy insisted he drink something, so the tears would stop. He finally does, and apologises for being such a child. Well, needless to say Ivy ignored that, telling him he should get cleaned up if they were to be expecting some unwanted guests. 

While he was doing that, Ivy had all of their products boxed up so as to hide them. When the shelves were empty, she had the boxes transported to a safe warehouse she had also purchased for moments like these. Once that was dealt with, she had the manufacturing lab cleared up. This was far more difficult as it all had no-where to go. So instead, she had it all set up to look like a relatively normal plant research lab. If they were lucky, those fools at the GCPD wouldn't know their plants. 

They're expectations were met, when the Commissioner, the Captain and two back-up cops arrived in their club. Oswald was staying up stairs. Ivy was pretending to tidy the mess in the club. 

"GCPD." Ivy heard from behind her. She sighed, setting down a glass and turned to face the company. 

"Can I help you?" she asked, pretending to not know why they were there. 

"We would like to search the premises. There have been numerous reports of the notorious criminal, Oswald Cobblepot, being sighted in this club," James Gordon announced. 

Ivy rolled her eyes. "Former," she muttered under her breath. 

"What was that?" Harvey Bullock asked. 

Ivy huffed. There was no way they could keep Oswald hidden. If they tried, the cops would just tear the place upside down. They would just be delaying the inevitable. So she gave up. "This way," she made for the stairs, gesturing for them to follow her. 

Ivy led them inside the apartment. Oswald sat on the couch, biting his lips once again. 

"Well, well. Penguin," Bullock assessed. 

"Oswald," he raised a hand to correct the mistake. "I left that life behind a long time ago."

"You're supposed to be dead. It's been six years, what have you been up to?" Jim pressed, eyeing Oswald up. He took in the obvious details of his new appearance, his scarred eye sticking out the most. 

"Well," he started "do you want the short version, or long version?"

Jim and Harvey glanced to one another. Oswald took that as an obvious answer for the short version. 

"Nygma shot me, dumped me in the Gotham river. Ivy rescued me, nursed me back to physical health, then we left Gotham together. We spent the last six years living in Starling City," Oswald explained. 

"What brought you crawling back?" Harvey puzzled. 

"Despite my time away, this city is and always will be my home."

"What are you up to?" Jim questioned. 

Oswald shrugged. "Running a night club, Commissioner."

"What have you got planned?"

"Planned?" Oswald scoffed. "James, please. That is all behind me. I'm just here, running a simple club with my companion and best friend Ivy."

Both Jim and Harvey seemed reluctant to understand that Oswald had no ill intention toward the city. The kept pressing him with the same questions, wanting to know why he was really there, what he was really up to etc. Oswald had enough with the questions, demanding to know what _they_ wanted. 

"If you're going to arrest me, I would very much like to know the charge," he says, raising from the couch. 

"We were merely here to investigate rumours," Jim told. 

"Ok, well you got me. I am alive, physically well as you can see. Do what you will with that information, but please, leave our home if you're done." Oswald took his empty tea cup, walked over to the sink. 

"I see you fixed your limp," Harvey observed. Oswald nodded. "So what's with the monocle?" he added. 

"I had an accident. My eye was badly damaged. It helps me see," Oswald turned around, running a finger along his eye scar. 

"You said, 'physically well' twice. What does that mean?" Jim tried to pry. 

"Uh-uh," Oswald wagged his index finger. "That information is only for the people I trust. People I care about."

"Do you have everything you need?" Ivy tried to shoo them out. 

"Yes. We do." And with that, they turned to exit. 

"Don't go causing a stir, Penguin," Harvey advised. 

"It's Oswald! I am not that man anymore," Oswald insisted. 

Harvey just scoffed a 'whatever', leaving with the others. After the whole awkward exchange, Ivy made Oswald some more chamomile tea. Oswald let all of his built up nerves loose. He broke down into a shaky fit, sobbing. Though it didn't show, it had shaken him up. He was terrified of what they would do to him. Now that they know he is alive, word would get out. The whole city would know, and some of his former enemies may come looking for him. Ivy ran Oswald a hot bath, insisting that it would help calm his nerves. She didn't need to do much convincing, Oswald relaxed in there for almost an hour. 

He examined his scars, running a finger up and down, over and over. He leaned over the bath tub, taking his butterfly knife from his leg brace. He twists it around in his hand, carefully examined the blade in the light. He began to get pissed off with himself with the thought that he just put his best, and only, friend's life in danger. He cursed himself for being so careless. If they had caught their whole operation, Ivy's life would have been screwed. And it all would have been because of Oswald. He squeezed the knife's handle tightly, his knuckles went white. 

_You selfish, screw-up Oswald!_

_Wouldn't Ivy's life be so much better without you?_

_You're always endangering others around you!_

_You always ruin the lives of people close to you!_

_You're so weak, and pathetic, worthless, selfish!_

Oswald sobbed. 

"Maybe I... haven't been punished enough." Though Oswald no longer hurt himself, he still strongly believed that he needed punishment for what he did all those years ago. Sometimes he would sit alone, butterfly knife in hand, thinking long and hard about the things he had done. How much he really needed to pay for them. 

Oswald counts his scars. 

"How dare I, carry on with my life. Live a good life, when there are still so many people I hurt. People I _killed_ who can't live at all. How. Dare. I."

The tears stopped rolling down his face. 

Oswald was furious with himself. 

"Life destroyer," he hissed.

Oswald put the knife's sharp blade to his skin. He holds it there, doesn't press down. Was he really going to do this? He hadn't done such a thing in about a year. What was the real point in doing so? 

_You ruined Edward's life, and you claimed you loved him!_

_Your selfishness, greed, and want for power had lead your mother to her undeserved demise!_

_Your stupid jealousy broke him!_

_It's only a matter of time before that girls life is destroyed because of you, too!_

_Is it any wonder why nobody really like you? Really respected you?_

_You were nothing but a tiny freak to them!_

_You're worthless! Selfish!_

"I've never done an ounce of good in my life... the one person I have left is in danger, all because of my own selfishness," he whispered, eyes squeezed shut. 

No. This is ridiculous. He cannot give into these temptations!

Oswald scoffed, throwing the knife away. It hit the floor with a clatter. He slid down the bath tub, his head getting submerged under the water. He stayed like that, until his lungs felt like they were going to implode. 

He raised his head above, gasping desperately for air. A frown weighed heavy on his lips. He ran a finger across his eye scar. Oswald believed it was truly hideous, he hated seeing it. 

Ivy knocked on his door, asking if he was alright. He had been in there for a while, and she heard something fall. He assured her he was just fine, lost track of time was all. It was sort of true. Ivy shrugged it off, leaving him to his business. 

Now Oswald had to prepare himself. By tomorrow, surely the whole of Gotham would know he was alive. There was no time for any doubt of that to slip into his mind. When he came from his bathroom, all re-dressed, hair and make-up done up, Ivy had presented him the with news. Two reporters from the Gotham Gazette had shown up, wanting an interview with him for the front page. Needless to say, that was not how Oswald intended word would get out. 

He agreed, reluctantly. He only told them the basics. He was saved, moved to Starling city, lived a relatively smooth life, then returned to Gotham and opened up a nightclub. He left out all of the personal details, including how he sustained his eye injury. Typically, they nabbed a photograph for the paper as his mugshot would have been incorrect and out-of-date appearance wise. He managed to make it perfectly clear that he was absolutely not back for the life of crime. He was no longer The Penguin and that was all behind him. Oswald pleaded that it be stated several times to get the point across. 

Ivy admitted that it wasn't how she anticipated the news would get out. Oswald didn't either. Now he needed to prepare for potential visits from reporters, and former enemies and companions. 

He had survived a month in the shadows, now it was time for him to live in the light again. Everyone was going to know, and he couldn't change it. He was understandably terrified that someone he had hurt before would come back to try and settle the score. Though it was mostly for Ivy's sake and not his own. Oswald didn't particularly care what happened to him, as long as Ivy remained safe. He wouldn't be able to assure her safety, but her word that she would handle herself was temporarily enough to keep Oswald's nerves settled. 

***

Of course the news spread like a wild fire, catching the attention of anyone who recognised the name. Which, needless to say, was a lot of people. It wasn't a surprise that the majority of said people were part of the criminal underworld, or formerly so. 

One of these people just so happened to be an incarcerated Edward Nygma. Granted it took about a week before the news spread through Arkham, but once it did, it wasn't long before Ed heard. Ed was sent into one of the Arkham rec-rooms after his post electroshock therapy examination session. Ed had the treatment daily, as he was the patient the Asylum were most determined to 'cure'. And if they were using the Crane Formula to speed up results, well, that was their little secret. It was recent thing for him as the new warden hadn't been there long. Only two or three months.

The guards shoved him inside, locking the door behind him. He growled some usual insult at them before slumping down in the corner he tended to sit in, alone. Well, that was his hopes. He was sometimes accompanied by a couple of the patients who were intrigued by his accomplishments and intellect. Ed didn't praise the attention, it just farther infuriated him that the only ones he had to communicate with were morons and lunatics. However, today he was grateful for their interest in him. Once he was slumped down in the corner, mumbling some incoherent rubbish, one of his little buddies scurried over. She was all disheveled and jittery. Sometimes she spoke as fast as the speed of sound, or so it felt when Ed couldn't make out a damn word she was trying to say. He couldn't comprehend a reason as to how she ended up in Arkham, she just seemed mentally insane, not criminally inside. But everyone's full of surprises, right?

She crouched down with Ed, giggling. She didn't do that for too long before Ed grew annoyed with it, groaning loudly. 

"What!?" he snapped. 

A grin spread across her face, revealing her rather unpleasant teeth. "Didn'tcha hear?"

Edward's only respons was an audible eye roll. 

"Penguin's alive," she giggled. 

"Who?" It took a moment for the name to register in Ed's brain, after all, he's been trapped in this dump for four years and it had been six since he had last seen Penguin. 

"Ya know, that guy you killed. Big crime lord," she elaborated as best she could. 

Then the name placed in his mind, that glorious moment of killing Penguin running back to his memory. Ed's lips curled into a grin. "Oh, yeah."

"So some chatter's been goin' around, and, apparently, the guys've been sayin', over heard some guards laughing about it, _butidontreallyknowwhattomakeofit_ \--"

"Get to the point!" Ed cut her off, annoyance very clear in his voice. 

"Penguin ain't so dead after all. It's in the news," she giggled. 

Ed remained silent for a moment, then burst out into a manic laughter. Clearly someone was pulling a joke, or it was a miss-sighting. Because Ed had killed Penguin himself. Shot him in the gut and shoved him into the Gotham river. Though he didn't stick around long enough to be sure his head never bobbed back up... Penguins can swim too... No. There was no way he could still be alive, Ed made sure of that.

So he laughed the news off, thinking nothing of it. Penguin was dead, rotting at the bottom of Gotham River and has been for six years. 

But, despite Ed telling everyone he had killed Penguin himself, the chatter about it wouldn't stop. Not just from the patients, but the guards too. What was everyone's interest in this conspiracy anyway? It was just one pathetic insignificant man. Not worth anyone's attention or interest. 

Then Ed saw it was true. He was having one of his daily examinations, in the wardens office. Ed was zoning out, the questioning really boring him. His eyes wandered the room, falling on the window, the filing cabinets, the sad family photograph on the wardens desk, the patient files on the desk, and finally his eyes settled on the newspaper clipping. Ed tilted his head, squinting his eyes. It was a couple of meters away from him, and it was harder to see from his cracked lens. Though after a moment of examining the words on the title, he could make it out clear as day. _Cobblepot Is Alive!_

Ed gasped, raising from his chair. It scraped across the ground with a screech. Ed walked over the the desk, snatching up the cut out piece of paper. His eyes instantly fell onto the dominating photograph of the man. Ed took in the look. Penguin's hair tufted back out his face, his cheeks more sunken in. His neck and jawline seemed to stick out more, so he was obviously skinnier. His eyes. In the picture, Penguin was wearing glasses. Tinted red. Although they covered the colour around his eyes, there was clearly a scar running across his right eye. A million questions filled Ed's head, but his thoughts were abruptly stopped by the wardens irritating voice.

"Mister Nygma, are you listening to me?"

Seems like he'd been talking for a while. 

"This. How long have you had this?" Ed demanded, turning around and presenting the newspaper clipping to the warden. 

"I don't believe you're supposed to be asking questions, Mister Nygma," the warden frowned, snatching the paper from Ed's hands. 

"Perhaps you don't know this about me, but I _killed him_. Me! Six years ago! I shot him in the gut, and dumped him in the river!" Ed boasted. 

"Oh I am well aware of that," the warden set the paper back on his desk, under some patient files, "but it seems your... murdering skills weren't as good as you thought. Mister Cobblepot is alive, and well."

"How?" Ed huffed. 

The warden tutted, moving the the office door. "I believe this examination is over," He motioned for the guards outside to take Ed back to his cell. 

Ed didn't rest easy after that. He was up for hours thinking about how Penguin could possibly still be alive. That fatal moment replayed through Ed's mind, over and over. Standing on the end of the pier, Penguin's hands bound, bullet to the gut, dumped in the river with heartbreak being the last look in his eyes. Perhaps he broke free of the binds and swam back up before he could drown, but the gunshot... Surely he would have bled out? How did he get it tended to without Ed's knowledge, or the city's knowledge? How could Penguin have even swam with such an injury?

The thoughts clawed and clawed at Ed's mind, until an idea came to his mind. The only way he was going to solve this puzzle, was to ask the dead man himself. Ed had to get out of Arkham and had to confront Penguin himself. He would surely squawk if he were to be held at gunpoint, and then that way Ed could do away with him all over again. But this time, a bullet to the head would suffice. There was no coming back from that. 

Now the new puzzle at hand. Arkham. It was just one giant puzzle, and that was Ed's forte. He would have tried to escape before if he had enough motivation or the perfect reason. But nothing ever came. After his first and only attempt at escaping, Ed had two guards posted outside his cell at all times. So actually crawling out was out of the equation. Then it hit him. 

Ed was already enduring therapy in order to be 'cured' of his insanity. It would certainly prove to be a challenge, but maybe all Ed had to do was fake his behavioural change. Pretend the therapy was working, and he was actually becoming sane once again. He was the Asylums top experiment at the moment, so this was the best plan he had. He'd still need to endure that awful fear toxin but only long enough for his act to seem believable. 

And so it began. During his next examination, although his mind wasn't quite all there yet, he altered his behaviour just a tad. It was still noticeable, yes, Ed put on a more peaceful act. He answered his questions with a subtly less aggressive answer and tried his best not to be as agitated. He wasn't exactly sure what the warden was looking for from his behaviour, but he had to try what was the most obvious. 

It seemed to work. After each therapy session, Ed would ease up his behaviour more and more. He was thrilled with himself. The people here were far too easy to out smart, why hadn't he done it sooner? Even if it was thirteen more therapy sessions later, his act was obviously taking the desired affect. 

By the fifteenth, the warden was truly delighted with Ed's progress. He was convinced that Hugo Strange's therapy methods worked wonders. Luckily for Ed, the man was completely oblivious to the fact it was all an act. It was hard for Ed to try and act more as a pacifist around the other patients and guards too. It was agony for him, but if the result was as desired, then it would all be oh so worth it. 

Sixteen therapy sessions later, it was announced Ed would be having one more just as extra security to be sure his new condition would last. The things Ed had to endure just for a little revenge. Those dreadful nightmares and hallucinations. How could they really help cure anyone of their insanity? They seemed to do just the opposite. But Ed never once let his act slip. No. He maintained it perfectly. 

Just nineteen days after his plan was set into motion, Edward Nygma was released from Arkham as a free, and completely sane man. Well, not completely sane, but the fools in that dump didn't need to know that. Ed thought they may figure it out when their other patients weren't showing the same results. Or maybe they would. But Ed couldn't care less. He had something _much more important_ to pursue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's likely Ed would be smart enough to trick those imbeciles at Arkham, right?  
> What the frick did I do to Ozzie... I'm a horrible human being for doing this.


	4. Look What You Made Of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I was so anxious about writing this. I took me four different tries, and to be honest I still hate it. So I hope it's satisfactory, even if it is god awful.

Finding Penguin didn't seem to be much of a challenge for Ed. The man's new club was currently the top attraction, for more reasons than one. Apparently Penguin had also been selling some homemade drugs, with his work partner. That part seemed a little out of character for Penguin, but the night club business not so much. 

After finding out where he lived, Ed had to devise a plan for getting in there, confronting Penguin and killing him. Why was Ed so dead set on killing the man? That wasn't important. What was important was the fact that Ed needed to finish what he started. Solve the riddle. That was all. 

Ed attended the club one night, to check out the area and see what sort of security he was up against. There didn't actually seem to be any security as far as Ed could see. That was also out of character for Penguin. Why would he not have his club and stash of whatever drugs he had protected? Well that also wasn't important. It made sneaking into Penguin's home all the more easier on Ed. 

From the outside, Ed could see it was a five story building. Where on Earth did Penguin get the money for such an estate? Ed assumed his living quarters would be on the top floor. This was going to be too easy, wasn't it? Get to the top floor, sneak inside, find where Penguin is and the rest of the plan falls into place. There was no security Ed had to avoid, apparently. How stupid and careless of Penguin. 

***

Oswald felt tonight would be another restless night. He felt bad for having Ivy manage the club the past two weeks but he was still so terrified that an old enemy of his would seek him out and end him. He just couldn't shake the thought. In retrospect, letting the whole city know he was alive wasn't the best idea. But hey, it was better he do it himself than it happening on it's own, in every wrong way possible. He couldn't believe that people were still so convinced he was back to take control of Gotham. Was there any way he would be able to get the idea out of the people's minds? Especially the idiots at the GCPD. Why does it have to be so hard for everyone to see he's changed? He's better than he was, but he seemed to be unable to prove the fact. 

Oswald heard the front door to the loft close. Figuring it was just Ivy, he checked the time. The club was still supposed to be open. Perhaps she just came back to get something? No, that doesn't seem like Ivy. Did she close up early? Oswald waited. Her bedroom door never opened or shut. Well, that certainly was odd. 

Having his curiosity piqued, Oswald opened his bedroom door to take a look. The loft lights were off. It was only his own bedroom light illuminating the open area in front of him, very dimly. 

"Ivy?" Oswald asked, fumbling his hand over the wall for the light switch. She never answered. Perhaps Oswald had just thought he heard the door close. He flicked on one of the lights and his heart dropped. Everything slowed. Time practically froze. That shattering feeling in his heart came rushing back. 

"Well, well. Oswald. So you are alive." Edward Nygma stood a few feet from Oswald, with a gun pointed to his head. 

Oswald studied the man in front of him. His suit was overly green. His hair was longer than he remembered. His eyes dark, and grin slowly spread across his lips. When everything finally registered in Oswald's brain, that Edward Nygma was here, in his home, with a gun pointed towards him, his heart rate picked up. His eyes widened with terror. Oswald's biggest fear, was right in front of him. 

"M-mister... N-Nygma," Oswald stuttered, panic slowly setting in. 

Edward lunged forward, seizing Oswald by his hair and pressed the gun to the side of his head. " _How_ did you survive?" he demanded. 

The memory of Ed shooting Oswald at the end of that damn pier began to reply in his mind. His words, the look in his eyes, his expression, the gunshot to the gut. The cold water surrounding and filling his whole body. 

_How did he survive?_

"I'm not entirely sure I did," Oswald swallowed, the panic evident in his voice. He was right. While Oswald's body may have survived the bullet, his mind certainly didn't.

"What?"

Oswald drew in a deep, sharp breath. "You shot me. You took everything I had. You killed me."

Ed's grip on Oswald's hair tightened, pulling harder. Oswald didn't even wince. He just stared at Ed with hollow eyes. "I don't have time for games, _Penguin_ ," Ed sneered. "How could I have killed you if you're here, now, right in front of me?" His firm grip on the man reassured him that this wasn't a hallucination, or some horrible mind game being playing on him whilst he was strapped to a chair in Arkham. 

Oswald placed a hand over his chest. "My heart beats, but it's shattered," he moved his hand to his head and pressed a finger to his temple, "my mind may still work, but it's lost." 

Ed furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"In shooting me, Nygma, taking everything I had. You broke me." Oswald kept his tone flat, though panic was still evident in his voice. Oswald seemed almost emotionless. His expression, flat and his eyes, hollow. 

"I don't understand," Ed lowered the gun, confusion swarming his mind. 

"You wanted me to suffer, as you did remember? Well. I've suffered. I fought the temptations every time because I knew it had to be you. I denied you my death the first time. It was only right I saved it for you."

Ed thought about the words. Fought temptations, saved it, it has to be him... The more Ed looked into Oswald's eyes, the less he began to see of Penguin. There was an emptiness about him. There was no fight, no inner fire. Penguin was seemingly gone. All that was left was a very empty and broken Oswald. A man with nothing and no-one. 

"You, want to die," Ed concluded. 

"I want to die," Oswald repeated with a tiny smile. Then he grabbed the gun and pressed it back against his head. "Do it. I deserve it. You deserve to be the one to kill me. I ruined your life, now take mine."

Needless to say, Ed was startled by this. He came here to kill Penguin, for whatever reason Ed can't seem to remember, but it seems he already did. All those years ago. He killed that side of Oswald and all that was left was this, empty shell. Just a broken husk. 

"Why? How did this... What did I do to you?" Ed puzzles, stepping back and pulling the gun away once again. Oswald's face flushed with disappointment. 

"Why do I want to die? I can't keep going on like this. I feel nothing but prolonged heartbreak and paranoia. I've ran out of ways to punish myself for my mistake. My misdeed. I just can't do this anymore. I hurt you, so you need to be the one to kill me," Oswald explains.

The more Oswald said, the less Ed understood. This didn't sound like him at all. Oswald would have come after Ed and tried to kill him for everything he did. In this moment, right now, Oswald should be holding a knife to Ed's throat. Fighting. Yelling. Freaking out. Doing something! But instead, he was just standing there asking to die.

"What... happened?" Ed caught himself asking. He couldn't even look at Oswald. Not only was his behaviour confusing Ed, it was also scaring him. He'd never seen this before, in anyone. He didn't know what to do. 

"What does it matter? You have your chance for revenge. Just take it, Nygma. You can't hurt me anymore. I'm done. Burnt out. The only thing left for me is death and I want it to be you. It has to be you." Oswald was a little surprised at what was coming from his mouth. He figured Ed would be out of Arkham eventually, give or take a few years, but he never imagined their confrontation to be like this. With Oswald asking for his death, and Ed being utterly lost. Oswald panicked when he first saw the man, but then when he realised it would all be over the familiar empty feeling filled him up. He saw no point in going on when it would be nothing. 

Ed didn't make a move. Oswald sighed. He understood. Ed just wanted his suffering to go on longer. 

"I get it," Oswald shrugged.

"Get what?"

"And you're probably right. Six years of punishment isn't enough for the likes of me. The things I did... Living like this, with this emptiness inside will be the real punishment. You're right. I deserve this much more. This time you get to watch it before you end me. And that's ok. It's ok. It's what I deserve."

His words filled Ed with more confusion. What was Oswald going on about? All the talk about punishment and suffering. Feeling nothing. Emptiness. Wanting to die. What does it mean?

Ed finally took a moment to take in the small man in front of him. Study the details of his features and figure. Oswald's hair was untidy. He had dark rings around his eyes, his right one having a scar running right across it. His cheeks, visibly more sunken. From what Ed could currently see, Oswald's collarbone stuck out more than it should. His clothing seemed to hang off his figure. He looked rather pale too. Oswald was somewhat significantly different to the photograph in the newspaper clipping. It sure was a sight to behold. Mix that with his odd behaviour, and the words he was trying to speak...

"Oh..." Was all Ed could say. 

"It's ok," Oswald muttered again. 

"What have I done?" Ed whispered more so to himself than Oswald.

Was stripping away everything Oswald had too far? Leaving him alone and helpless. Sure Ed wanted to make him suffer, but he imagined Oswald would die so it wouldn't matter about what he had put him through. But no. Oswald lived. And had to live with the pain and trauma Ed caused him. Had to live with nothing. 

"Do you think it's your fault?" The question seemed to just slip out Ed's mouth. 

"I know it is. I was selfish and jealous. The only way I can make it up to you would be letting you kill me," Oswald insisted. 

Ed wasn't ready to handle this. He imagine walking in there, getting an explanation from Penguin and have him begging for his life. Instead he got this. Oswald with no fight, and begging for his death. Oh yes. Ed certainly has killed him. 

Ed put the gun away, turning around and starting for the door. "I came here to kill Penguin, but you're already worse than dead," he says over his shoulder. 

"Yes. I am," Oswald agreed. "You killed Penguin six years ago on that pier. You could say I'm just an empty shell of what used to be."

"I imagined this whole exchange would be different," Ed gestures between him and Oswald, back still turned to him. 

"As did I," Oswald confessed, his voice going softer. 

"Goodbye, Oswald." With that, Ed left. Walking out the loft, making sure not to be seen by anyone on his way out the entire building. 

Oswald stared at the door for a while, unable to move. His hands were shaking and his breathing had become unsteady. What had even just happened. Oswald wasn't sure. He couldn't fully piece it together in his mind. Was it real, or just another crazy dream?

When Oswald returned to his room, he hunched up on his bed replaying the encounter over and over in his mind. Then when everything that had happened finally hit him, Oswald went into his first sobbing fit in almost two months. It had been that long since he had felt anything other that paranoia. Edward Nygma really came here, really held a gun to Oswald's head, was really about to kill him. Oswald had actually asked for his death. He really wanted to die. He hadn't felt that desire so deeply. Never wanted it so badly. It was Edward that brought out the intensity in it. Being in front of the man once again made him fully remember why Oswald needed to die. Why he deserves it.

The after emotions of the encounter began to scratch at Oswald's mind unable to leave him alone. The thoughts, the feelings, impulses that followed with it. Clawing at him. Edward Nygma, in front of him, ready to kill him. Edward Nygma, who Oswald had once claimed to love and yet hurt so cruelly. Edward Nygma who had previously broken Oswald's mind, and had done it again. It didn't even take much. 

Oswald sobbed and sobbed. Did he truly want to die, or was it just the in the moment? Maybe he should have begged. Forced Edward to pull that trigger. He ruined Edward's life. He couldn't be forgiven. Couldn't be left alive. Oswald had to die. Edward was never going to forgive him, take him back. He was never going to love him. Oswald would remain alone in this cold, cruel world. Left to turn into dust. He was well aware that his miserable existence was holding Ivy back too. Preventing her from living her life to it's full potential. If Oswald was gone, she'd be happy. He knew that her looking after him was more a chore than something she actually wanted to do. 

Maybe instead of waiting for Edward, Oswald should just do it?

He could set his best friend free from her agony.

Set Edward free from his inner anger and hatred. 

Set himself free from the nothingness this world has to offer. 

Oswald wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. He pushed himself off his bed walking over to his dresser. His butterfly knife was placed on top, next to his leg brace. He scooped it up in his hand, flicking it open. He held it firmly, sniffing. His tears had stopped at last, and once again he was filled with that emptiness. He continued to stare at the knife clutched tightly in his hand. Considering his option for a few moments, biting his bottom lip. 

Then Oswald dropped the knife to the ground. He sighed a shaky breath. "No. I won't do it," he says to his reflection. "If it will be by anyone, then it will be Edward!"

"It has to be..." he whispered a moment later.

Oswald crawls into bed, rolling around for what seemed like forever before falling into a dreamless sleep. 

The next morning Ivy comes to breakfast, greeting Oswald with something that she had discovered the previous day. She puts a newspaper on the table but before addressing the situation, she notices Oswald looked like he was zoned out. The event from the previous night had his thoughts fixated on Edward. Oswald was confused as to why he suddenly felt the urge to make Edward kill him. The fact Edward didn't was also bugging him. Why did Edward show his mercy? Or does he perhaps want Oswald to suffer even more...

"Ozzie?" Ivy waves a hand in front of him. 

Oswald shook his head, blinking up at Ivy. "Yes? I'm ok."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Oswald nods. "Just lost in thought..."

"Well," Ivy sits at her usual spot at the table, "this is bad news. It turns out Arkham released one Edward Nygma."

Obviously, Oswald already knew this. But Ivy didn't know he knew. So he puts on a fake shocked face. "Oh... w-when?"

"A few days ago. I don't understand why, I mean he's clearly insane. I looked at his list of known crimes and there is no way, under any circumstances, that they would release him for that!" Ivy noticed Oswald looked a little out of it again. She rests a hand on top of his, giving him a reassuring smile. 

"Sorry, it's just... I'm scared."

"Aw Ozzie, don't apologise for being scared. It's perfectly normal. He did shoot you. But I had an idea. I've got some people coming in today to install some cams around the estate. They're going to be connected to a monitor screen up here so we can keep an eye out in case the lunatic tries to come here and finish what he started," Ivy explained.

"That does sound like something he'd do. That's a great idea, Ivy, thank you," Oswald tried a smile back for her. She removed her hand, standing up from the table and going to the kitchen area. 

"Anything for my best friend."

"But... Given the news, would you be ok managing the club for longer? I mean we could always close it temporarily."

"I'll be fine looking after it. There's a regular that likes to chat with me quite a bit. She's an excitable character, I kinda like her." Ivy starts making Oswald's morning tea for him. 

"That's good. I'm glad you're making new friends. I know it can't be easy having me as your only one. It must be odd for you, too," Oswald sighs, biting his lip.

"Not at all. You're great company Ozzie. Our age gap doesn't bother me in the slightest." She finishes up, taking the cup back to Oswald. 

"Thank you. That means a lot to me," Oswald gives her a smile, taking the proffered cup. 

***

Despite replaying it through his mind over and over, Ed still couldn't register what had happened with Oswald. And it was real. Not just some hallucination. It was the real Oswald. Alive and... Well. 'Well' isn't exactly a good term to use. Ed just could not shake that unnerving hollowness in Oswald's eyes. Where had that inner fire gone? Had it finally burnt out? If that was the case, then, that just means Ed had truly broken that man. 

Last time Ed had seen Oswald so broken, it wasn't to this extent. It hadn't even lasted a month. But now, Oswald had been in that state for presumably six years. Ed doubted it would even be possible to bring him back from such a thing, when it had been prolonged for as long as it had. He was also unsure as to why it bothered him so much. Less than seventy-two hours ago, he wanted Oswald dead. Now, he has this weight over him. His thoughts never straying away from the broken mess he created. No fight. No fire. No begging for mercy. No Oswald. He just wasn't there. And frankly, that knowledge scared Ed. 

Scared him, because that was all his doing. Sure, back at the time of Oswald's damn backstabbing Ed wanted him to suffer. But that wasn't meant to last more than a week. Ed was going to put him out of his misery. That didn't happen. No. Oswald's suffering went on for six damn years! Edward did that to him. Caused someone he once cared for so deeply to go through pain for so long that he no longer saw the point. In fact, did Oswald even still feel pain? Or did he endure it for so long that he became numb to it?

Ed just couldn't shake it. It's funny how so much hatered could just be washed away with one singal look. Now all he felt was... So much. The best way to describe it was heavy. He felt heavy. Couldn't believe the fact he shattered someone. Not just anyone, but his best friend, who he had admired so much. And as part of a revelation Ed had over the years, it went beyond simple admiration. Ed hated it. He was supposed to hate it. The fact he had once held affection for Oswald, or the fact that it took losing Oswald for him to realise it, and accept it?

By the time he had, it was far too late. Oswald was gone, rotting at the bottom of Gotham River. Only he wasn't. He was alive, and suffering because of Ed's actions. What was Ed doing during that time? Making the most of his life as The Riddler. Committing heist after heist, murder after murder. Being on top. Having people fear him. Though it soon became too little. Having almost all emotion drained from him, for a purpose that was unknown to him at the time, which caused him to just snap. Granted, not quite to the extent that Oswald had. But it could have been. 

That didn't matter. This was about how he had stripped away Oswald's will to live. That inner fire that had made him The Penguin. It was eating Ed up inside, and again, it hadn't even been seventy-two hours. His thoughts just consumed with the memory of those eyes. The pleads. And the obvious fact that Oswald was hiding something. The burning desire to see the man again had rapidly started to grow the more Ed thought about him. How he needs to rectify his mistake. What he did... It's almost haunting. Ed's killed people, tortured them even. But this was so much different. This was his best friend, shattered. Just, hollow. It sent shivers down Ed's spine just thinking about it. And those damn eyes. Just absolute emptiness looking back at Ed. And it was all his fault. 

_Why did he suddenly care so much._

He had spent the bitter part of six years regretting killing Oswald. Then the regret turned into hatred all over again. Hate, to regret, to hate, and here he was. Back to regret. But this regret was different. Not to shooting Oswald, but to leaving him in his broken state. Six years. Could Oswald come back from that?

It was becoming too much. Just mere days after the encounter. Just this heaviness eating him up inside. He's supposed to hate Oswald. But how can he, when the Oswald he knew isn't even there to hate? It was scary. Ed didn't like it. Hated it. It made his stomach turn. Shivers run down his spine. What the hell had he done? Of course he knows what he did. And he knows, he can never be forgiven for it. Screw that need to finish what he started, he needed to fix his mistake. Clean up the mess. Put the pieces back together. As much as he tried to suppress it during his time in Arkham, Ed missed Oswald terribly. Now he was back. It was almost like his second chance. Second, second chance.

Screw Riddler. He was just an attention and fear hungry, cold logician. Their fusion was severed during the electroshock therapy. Luckily, Riddler had never manifested. Never tried to gain control. And it was just as well, because he was truly the part of Ed that hated Oswald. With the weight, the heaviness, becoming too much, Ed knew what he had to do. It was going to be no easy task. But he knew. 

Ed needed to piece together the broken shards of Oswald. He needed to fix him. He wasn't even sure he could. Oswald looked completely gone that night. Almost like a lost cause. Just an empty shell, with no remnants to fill it. Ed didn't know the extent of his damage. This could be utterly impossible. Worthless. Six years worth of... whatever it was, may be proven to be irreversible, or unfixable. 

Why had Ed began to hate Oswald in the first place...

A lot of the therapy he had in Arkham had made Ed forget some of the important events that led him back there. Whether it was actually killing the memory, or just making Ed suppress them, he wasn't sure. One of these memories just so happened to be what led him to shooting Oswald that day. 

_"I want to die."_

The words echoed around Ed's mind. So emotionless yet so needy.

_"I knew it had to be you."_

The sound of relief, was unnerving. Oswald thinking he had finally gotten what he wanted.

_"I saved it for you."_

_"Fought the temptations."_

Oh. Oh dear. 

Ed considered those sentences. Thought about them long and hard. The truth behind them, it was scary. After replaying it over and over, Ed could hear the meaning. Like Oswald had practically said it right there. 

He had the thoughts, the urges, to take his own life.

The revelation made Ed shiver. Chills slid down his spine. Oswald wanted to end his life. Oswald. And Ed caused that. It was all Ed's fault. He stole Oswald's will to live. And the only reason he never did it, was so that Ed could do it for him. Ed forced him to live like that for six years.

Six years, being so broken and fighting the urge to end his life, all so Ed could do it for him.

Why though? Why did Oswald do that to himself? Did he only come back to Gotham so Ed would seek him out, and finally put an end to his suffering? Just how badly was this man broken? How tiny were the pieces. How far were they scattered?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was something....


	5. You Got What You Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear toxin infused electroshock therapy has left some side effects on Ed.

Ed couldn't take it much longer. All thoughts of his encounter with Oswald was clawing at his mind. Scratching away, making him bleed. Bleed with desperation, for answers. He needed to see Oswald again, that much he knew for certain. What he didn't know, was how to go about it. Last time was truly unnerving. He'd never seen anyone in that state, besides himself in his mid-teens. The circumstances of the two were completely different however. Ed was an abused kid. Oswald is a grown man, nearing his forties, dealing with whatever trauma Ed had induced upon him. This was far worse than the specters of Oswald he would hallucinate from time to time. They were simple images from his mind. This was very much real. 

With the thoughts plaguing Ed's mind for almost a week at this point, he had enough. Ed wasn't entirely sure what it was he wanted to look for, to see Oswald for. But he needed to do it. The impulse, and the urge to do so hadn't left him. It was made all the more worse with this heaviness in his chest too. He recognised the feeling from years ago, experienced it at least twice before. It weighed him down for months, before he finally accepted things. A lot of good that did him, though. Breaking his mind, causing him to lose his sanity piece by piece, excruciatingly. He wasn't going to make the same mistake again. Accepting things didn't work out last time. So trying to fix things surely would. Wouldn't it?

Yet again, for the third time in nine days, Ed was walking back toward that haunting estate. Every step closer he took, the more the memories of that empty and shattered Oswald filled his mind. The first two times Ed went back to confront the man again, he had backed out. Too afraid that he'd be rejected. What was there to be rejected over? Ed also wasn't sure he was ready to face Oswald again given his state of mind. Mind and being. It still sent a shiver down Ed's spine, and not pleasantly. It felt more like someone had stuck ice cubes down his back, or had held a gun to his heart. That sort of shiver. A chill. It terrified him. Ed never knew someone like Oswald Cobblepot could become so seemingly helpless. Empty. Burnt out. 

Ed shook his head, shoving the thoughts deep down. Trying to keep his cool. There was no way he was backing out this time. No. He needed to confront Oswald once again. See if there wasn't a way he could somewhat piece the man back together. It didn't need to be everything. Just parts that made Oswald, Oswald. The parts Ed had admired so much, and had slowly grown to love. 

_Love?_

No that isn't what he meant. The only time he had confessed suppressed love for Oswald, was a drug induced confession. It didn't really mean anything. It would have been four or five years ago anyway. Maybe three at the least. But a long time ago. With a different Oswald. Not this one. Not this empty shell. A broken impostor. Which Ed had created through his silly little notion of getting revenge. Over something he still couldn't remember. Ed remembers clearly, being hurt by Oswald. Being so angry at him. It was what caused it, Ed was having continuous difficulty remembering. And it hurt. It was like vital parts of Ed's mind were stolen from him. Taken away during his torture at Arkham. Apparently the methods of curing insanity seemed to consist of stripping away the memories of what lead the person down that path to begin with. The theory, was that if they didn't remember, then their mind may be restored to it's state prior to the downfall. Given how Ed had literal decades worth of trauma, it didn't work too well for him. 

Ed stops in his tracks, standing outside the large building which seems to resurface those unnerving memories. The front doors were open, same as the last two times. The bright neon green sign above the entrance was lit up. He doesn't stop to admire the view for long, before striding indoors. The ground floor was empty. Lucky for Ed. He'd thought maybe Oswald had the smarts to hire some people to guard the place from... Well, Ed. Apparently not, which worked in his favour. He walks up the metal stairs, stopping to take a glance around the club area. It too, was empty. Well, except the one person wiping down table tops. Also lucky. Maybe a little too lucky. 

He moved on, continuing his way up the stairs. Again he stopped on the next floor. All that was here, was a large white heavy metal door with a frosted glass window. Ed couldn't see inside this room. He figured this must be the place where their _other_ operations take place. Yet another Ed would need to question Oswald about. Why the drugs and such. Ed huffs. Only two more flights of stairs to go, and then he'll be face to face with Oswald again. He didn't really have a plan for what he was going to say. This was about as far as he thought. Getting inside. He never thought about how this encounter with Oswald was going to go down. 

Nevertheless, Ed braced himself for what was going to come. He ran up the next two flights of stairs, halting himself outside that wooden door which lead inside Oswald's home. Well, Oswald and that woman he lives with. Ed couldn't recall her name. Not that he wanted to. The thought of Oswald being with her sent pangs through Ed's heart. He doesn't know why. Currently, he doesn't care to know why. He knows he doesn't want her around. 

Ed drew in a deep, sharp, breath and put his hand on the door knob. Squeezing it tightly, he turns it, pushing the door open. It was quiet inside. Oswald or the redhead weren't in sight. Ed quietly walks over to what he figured to be Oswald's living quarters. Just to be safe, and not wanting to walk in on anything, he places an ear up to the door to listen in. There was no sounds. At least not that Ed could make out. Thinking it would be alright, still not sure what he was even doing, he opens the door. The room was also empty. There was another door inside, on the right wall. Ed goes to that one too, opening it up and finding an empty bathroom. He backs out, and walks around to the only other door he could see. Again, he presses his ear to the door to listen for anything. Nothing. He grabs the knob, turns, pushes.

Ed steps inside, not seeing anyone. He glances side to side, taking in the room. It was very green, and feminine. Decorated with plants. A lot of plants. Ed could safely conclude that Oswald didn't sleep here. So, he shrugs then turns around to exit, only to be met with a redheaded woman. 

"Crud."

She smirks at him, then sprays some substance in his face. It stung his eyes, made him cough. Then he became lightheaded. Slowly, his vision began to blur and everything became black. 

***

_"Ed."_

_Ed opens his eyes, vision blurry, head spinning. Whatever it was he'd been sprayed with was still stinging. Ed rubs his eyes, his vision slowly setting into focus. He groans. His head still felt funny._

_"Ed?" That same voice asks. Ed looks around, spotting a dark figure looming over him at his feet. Ed pushes himself up into a sitting position, his vision continuing to focus._

_"Are you alright?" it asks. Ed nods, confused. Why was everything so dark? He pats the ground around him to feel for his glasses. The ground was cold. Icy, almost. And... wet? Ed's fingers brush against the frame of his glasses. He swipes them up, fixing them carefully on his face. His vision finally settled into focus as he looked again to the figure standing before him._

_"Os-Oswald?" Ed tilts his head, puzzled. It looked and sounded like Oswald, except it was a bit... distorted? It had black cracks around it's entire body, though most present around it's head and chest. It was thin, too. It's eyes were white, empty, and sunken. Bits of skin were chipped away, leaving black marks._

_"What's left of me," he replies._

_"What do you mean?" Ed pushes himself to his feet, fingers dripping water. Everything, except him and 'Oswald' was pitch black. Vantablack, almost. He took a step forwards, hearing the splosh of the thing layer of water beneath him._

_"What's left, of what you broke," Oswald states._

_"I don't get it." Ed shook his head, Oswald's figure beginning to illuminate along with Ed's own body. "And where are we?"_

_"Oh Ed..." Oswald tuts, shooting Ed a disappointed glare._

_"What?"_

_"How can you not get it?" Oswald places a hand to his cracked chest. Then his chipped fingers disappear into the fabric of his shirt and just as quickly reemerge. Holding yet another black item. It too, looked to be chipped. The edges seemed to have disintegrated away, but it was beating. "You broke it." Oswald looks to the object in his hand pitifully, shaking his head._

_Ed steps closer to Oswald, the water continuing to splosh under his feet. Oswald briskly grabs Ed's wrist, forcing his hand open. Gently he places the object into Ed's hand. It was freezing, like it had been left in a freezer._

_"What is it?" Ed puzzles, pulling it closer to his face to examine it better. Oswald chuckles, empty, bitter._

_"Broken," he whispers. Ed looks back to meet Oswald's gaze. There were tears streaming down his face, the plops echoing throughout this void. Ed looks down, to see the water slowly rising with each plop. Ed's attention falls back to the object in his hand when he feels it stop moving. Then he starts to squeeze absentmindedly. He continues to squeeze it, having no control over his own actions._

_"Yes that's right. Crush it," Oswald_ _encourages, placing his hand over Ed's and making him squeeze harder._

_"Oswald, what is this? What's happening?" Ed quickly asks in a panic. The object in his hand soon dissipates, turning to dust. Cold, icy dust. The water rises around them. Ed looks Oswald in the eyes for help. Tears were still falling from his eyes. Then his fingers begin to turn into dust, followed by his face._

_"You killed me."_

_"Oswald?" Ed puts his hands to Oswald's cheeks. Again, freezing. "Don't go."_

_"Ed, I love you. I know you believe that now," Oswald sobs._

_"Yes, you love me! I love you! Don't go, please! Not again. I can't lose you again," Ed cries in return. His hands slide around to the back of Oswald's head, and Ed pushes him forward into a tight hug._

_"I want to die," Oswald confirms, cold, empty._

_"I don't want you to! Please, don't leave me again Oswald!"_

_"The only way I can make it up to you would be letting you kill me." The words echoed around in the dark. Ed could feel Oswald disappearing. He squeezes his eyes closed so he doesn't need to watch. The water was still getting higher. He didn't care. If Oswald was going, Ed was going too. He couldn't go through losing him again. He wouldn't._

_"I'll never kill you!"_

_"Broken," Oswald repeats through a whisper. And then he was gone. Ed topples forward, having nothing to stop him. He falls into the knee-deep water, his own tears making it rise still._

_"Oswald..." he sobs. Cold. Wet. Empty._

"--gma!"

_He was gone again. Ed killed him, again._

"Nygma!"

_Why did Ed have to keep making this mistake over and over?_

"Nygmaaa!"

_What was that? Who was calling him?..._

***

"Nygma!" Ed hears a female voice shout in his ear. He stirs, his eyes sluggishly opening up. Everything is a little blur at first, but vision soon starts to focus. Quickly, Ed takes in his surroundings. He's tied to a chair, in a large open and empty space. There was that redhead standing in front of him, and behind her... Oswald. Alive. Normal. No cracks, no chips, no dust. He was fine. 

"What's going on?" he groans, his gaze fixed on the small broken man standing no more than nine feet away. 

"That's what I was going to ask you!" the redhead cheers, clasping her hands together.

"What?" Ed slowly adjusts his head to glare at the woman. 

"You." She takes a step closer to him. "Broke," another step, "into," another step, "our," another step, "home." She stops no more than a foot away from Ed, glaring into his eyes with daggers. 

"I... I highly doubt you would have opened the front door for me!" Ed tries to fling his arms into the air, but the duct tape around his wrists keeps him restrained. 

"So. What do you want with Ozzie?" Another pang went through Ed's heart at hearing the pet name. 

"To talk to him," Ed deadpans.

"Why?" Oswald piped up, not moving any closer. He was twirling a butterfly knife in his left hand, though his gaze was fixated entirely on Ed. He could still see the emptiness in Oswald's eyes, even if it was hidden behind a pair of red tinted specs. 

"I need to know what happened. How much damage I caused. I know I screwed up, colossally. I want to know to what extent," Ed explains looking at Oswald almost pleadingly. 

"What happened," the redhead started up again, "is that you _shot_ him!" She pokes Ed in the centre of his chest, fiercely. "And now you're here to finish him for good. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I will not let that happen."

"What? No. No, I'm not here to kill him." Ed returned his eyes to Oswald, some invisible force keeping his gaze fixated there. "I promise."

"Ivy." Oswald stepped forward. So her name was Ivy. Ed kept a mental note of that. 

"Mmhmm," Ivy hums, still staring daggers into Ed. 

"I... I think I can take it from here."

"You think I'm going to leave you alone with this psycho?" 

_Psycho_? Just what had Oswald told her about Ed that lead her to the word 'psycho'. She turns her head around to face Oswald. 

"He's not... Please? I have a feeling it may get rather personal." Oswald came even closer, now standing about three feet away from Ed. For whatever reason, his heart rate began to pick up. Seeing Oswald and Ivy standing so close together. Too close. It sent a funny, uncomfortable, feeling through Ed's entire being. 

"I don't want to. I don't like the idea of you two alone," Ed could say the same for those two. "But if it's what you want. Ok. I'll be close by though. Just yell if you need me." She angles her body enough and pulls Oswald into a hug. Another pang went through Ed's chest. He subconsciously squeezes his hands into tight fists. So tight his knuckles were likely white, not that Ed could see through the leather gloves coating them. 

"Thank you," Oswald says as he hugs her back. More daggers to Ed's heart. Oswald had truly moved on from him, found someone else. Loved someone else. The only thing he wanted from Ed now, was for Ed to kill him. How much had Oswald even thought about Ed during those six years? Granted, Ed hadn't thought about Oswald for months but that was due to his electroshock therapy screwing with his memories. He may have been angry, for whatever reason, to find out Oswald was still alive, but now he was so relieved. Like a second chance was thrown his way. 

Finally, they pull apart and the redhead leaves them alone, in whatever room this was. The door shut and Oswald stared at Ed. Ed swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, waiting for Oswald to cut the thick swampy silence that had formed. Oswald flicks his knife open once again, stepping closer to Ed. Oh dear, what was he going to do? Was this finally it? Had Oswald finally come to his senses and was going to torture Ed for what he did? It seemed not, as Oswald only leaned down to cut the duck tape binding Ed's arms to the chair. He was finally loose, and Oswald tucked his knife back into it's place on his leg brace. A leg brace. That looked nice on him. It was knew. When had Oswald gotten that?

"So." Oswald began. 

"So..." Ed nods in return. 

"You want to know what happened?" Oswald tilts his head. Ed nods again. Slowly. Oswald bit his bottom lip, looking as though he was considering something. Like a difficult choice. "You want to know the extent to the damage you caused?"

"Yes. I need to know what I must rectify for. What punishment must be bestowed upon me."

"The last thing you need is punishment, Mister Nygma." Again with the surname. He had maybe once enjoyed to hear it on occasion back in the day, but now it was as though Oswald was just treating him like a stranger. Perhaps he was now. Just a faded bad memory.

"What do I need then?"

"Answers. I can tell your mind is plagued by my behaviour from last time."

"It is," Ed agrees, a chill down his spine remembering that night. 

"Living in the place that has caused me so much hurt, trauma, and seeing you again. It's made these memories constantly replay in my mind. Resurfacing some buried thoughts and desires. Paranoia for one. Another would be the nagging impulses to..." Oswald trailed off, taking in a deep breath.

"To what, Oswald?" Ed prompts gently. Hoping he was sounding understanding. The last thing Ed wanted to convey right now was wanting Oswald dead. He didn't want that at all. Oswald continues to bite his bottom lip. 

"I-I never told anyone. Well, never told Ivy. She's the only one I really had to tell. I'm not entirely sure I should tell you, but I know an incomplete puzzle irks you." Oswald was considering how Ed felt? That was odd. Oswald was supposed to hate him. Want him to suffer in the same ways he had. Just like Ed all those years ago. Oh how the turntables. Well not exactly. That is how things should be. But they weren't that way at all. 

"You know what? Never mind. It's not important." Oswald shakes his head, severing the eye contact between him and Ed. "Getting back on track here, the resurfaced impulses and whatnot caused me to behave that way. It happened of it's own accord, it was like I had no control over my own words. That doesn't change the fact that I still want... that."

"Why do you want that?" Ed felt like an idiot for even asking. 

"I'm afraid it would take a _long_ time to cover that. There are many reasons why. This isn't important." Oswald seemed to keep dismissing the issue's about himself. Like he wasn't important. 

"But it _is_ ," Ed insists. 

"It's not. I'm not important right now, ok? All you need to know, is that you got what you wanted." 

"I don't want this," Ed denies. "Seeing you in this way, with this state of mind and body, it's scary. It hurts. Knowing I caused this downfall. Removed that part of you that made me lo--care for you." That was too close. "If I had known that stripping away everything you had would also have stripped you of your will to live, then I never would have done it."

Oswald steps forward again. Then he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out... Ed's gun. He hadn't even noticed it was removed. Oswald grabs Ed's hand and slams the piece into it harshly. 

"Oswald, what--"

"You better use that before you walk out of here."

" _What!?_ " Ed shook his head. What had he just heard? That wasn't right. That wasn't Oswald. _His_ Oswald. 

"Kill me," Oswald begs again. "I can't. I can't." It almost looked like he was about to burst into tears, fall into a sobbing fit on the floor. 

"No, no, no Oswald!" Ed quickly stood, dropping the firearm to the floor with a _clatter_. "I can't go through that again. I _won't_. Killing you had killed a part of me and I would rather die myself before it happened again."

"You should have been glad. You should want me gone. I ruined your life. You should hate me. Hate me..."

"I don't remember what you did," Ed admits so suddenly he blinks in surprise. Oswald shoots him a glance as if to convey his confusion. A need for an explanation. "The 'therapy' I endured at Arkham, it pushed a lot of memories out of my mind. I can't remember an awful lot about what had led me to my... whatever it was. I figured that was the idea. Erase everything that made me insane, so those imbeciles could rewrite me in a way. I don't really know for sure, but it's what I concluded."

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"I betrayed you. I killed the love of your life. Stole your happiness. Made you go through something awful. And it was so selfish of me. I broke your heart and lied about it. How could you simply forget something so cruel and awful?" Oswald explains, his eyes starting to glisten.

"That... oh..." Ed still couldn't really remember. He knew Oswald must have done something awful for Ed to want him dead, so what he just said makes sense. Whether the memory is there or not. Either way, that's a silly thing to continue hating him over. A stupid reason to have done what he did to Oswald. 

"What did I do to you, exactly?" Ed asked. 

"Before or after shooting me?"

"After. I understand that I have given you these... thoughts, but I know that isn't the whole of it. There's more. Tell me more."

"It's not important. Doesn't matter. Nothing to worry about."

"Except it is! Oswald please tell me, I need to know."

"No," Oswald shook his head, stepping back away from Ed. "It's really nothing to worry about."

"Oswald, if you're having suicidal thoughts, then yes it absolutely is. Tell me," Ed places a hand on Oswald's right arm, but Oswald flinched and shrugged him off. 

"Please don't touch me," he says turning so his back was facing Ed. 

"Why? Did I hurt you?" Ed puzzles. He hadn't grabbed Oswald _that_ hard.

"N-no, just... don't."

"Oh of course. You don't trust me. How can you? I'm sorry, that thought hadn't even crossed my mind. After shooting you, how could you ever look at me the same way?"

"It's not just that, it's... I-I was afraid of you. Terrified you'd seek me out and put me through another hell once more before finishing me for good."

"I thought that's what you wanted?"

"Funny, isn't it? I want it, yet it scares me," Oswald sighs, spinning back around to face Ed once more. 

"Is... Is there anything I can do? To get you back?" Ed asks in as gentle a tone as he could. 

"I'm not coming back. I feel I've been gone too long." Yet another piercing pang was sent through Ed's chest. Hearing these words was like daggers being plunged into him over and over. Why did he have to go and destroy one of the most beautiful minds he'd ever known and adored? All sense of self purpose is just gone. Wiped out. All Ed's fault. 

"Are," Ed's voice cracked. "Are you, happy?"

"I-I don't think so," Oswald shook his head.

"Can I make you better?" Ed whispers, stepping closer to Oswald once again. "I want to make you better."

Oswald blinks, and a tear rolls down his right cheek. He doesn't wipe it away, just lets the flow continue. "Am I someone that's worth saving anymore?"

"Of course." Ed stops moving, only a few inches between his body and Oswald's. Strangely it felt as though there was no need for boundaries. They'd been separate for six years, Oswald supposedly being dead, they should be treating each other like strangers. But it still felt like they'd known each other their whole lives, like those six years apart had never happened. Ed cautiously leans in and gently rests his forehead on Oswald's, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. 

"God, everything would be simpler if I wasn't here. Being a block in peoples lives."

"No, no that's not true. You make them better. You made mine better."

"I ruined it." Oswald moves his head away, attempting to step back out of Ed's arms, but Ed's hold just tightens. 

"Don't act like I haven't destroyed yours. I did. That's fact. Part of me wants you to hate me for it, part of me wants you to forgive me."

"I did that already. I got what I deserved. You were completely right to do what you did. I'll never hate you for opening up my eyes," Oswald explains, his head drooping so he's looking at the floor. 

Ed slides a hand into Oswald's hair, pushing him closer. "Don't say that," he whispers. A moment, and Oswald is sliding his arms around Ed. His hands gripping his back tightly. Oswald nuzzles the side of his face into Ed's chest, a tear sliding down again. Ed rests his cheek on top of Oswald's head, the raven hair soft but firm. 

God, Ed had missed this. So much. Oswald's small body pressed up against his own. It brought so much comfort and a warmth Ed hadn't felt in a long time. He squeezes Oswald, just a little, to make sure that this was real. Ed needed this to be real. After so many treacherous nightmares and hallucinations. This one precious thing just needed to be reality. 

But, was Oswald the same? Had he missed Ed as much? Dreamed about having him back? No. Of course, Oswald wouldn't even like Ed anymore let alone love. Oswald has someone else now. Someone better to give his shattered heart to. Ed pulled away, not wanting to over step any boundaries all the sudden. Oswald has someone. He needed to remember that. 

Oswald took his glasses off, running the back of his hand over his eyes. Then down his cheeks with the ball of his palm. The scar over his right eye was thick, like the wound was a deep gash. The eye seemed to be permanently dilated, that beautiful sea-glass shade still shimmered. Was it stuck that colour too? Oswald quickly slipped the glasses back on, covering up the scar. 

"What happened to your eye?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter," Oswald brushes it off. Why does he keep saying that? He did matter. Surely his girlfriend kept reminding him that? She was probably still standing outside, too. Wondering what was taking so long. Thinking, what if Ed had hurt Oswald? Killed him?

"I-I should probably leave. I doubt your girlfriend would want me around much longer," Ed admits, frowning. 

"Girlfriend?" Oswald raised a brow, puzzlement sweeping over his face. "Oh. Ivy's not, we're not, i-it's not like that. At all. Far from it. Just best friends. She's like a sister to me, even if we are seventeen years apart."

"Wait, what?" Ed's face reddened. 

"You really thought me and her were... romantically involved?" Ed nods, embarrassed. "She's twenty. Was only a young teenager when we met, but somehow still managed to look after me. She accomplished so much for her age, I'm actually impressed by it."

"I see. So you're not," Ed clears his throat, "You haven't found someone else?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Oswald tilts his head.

"No. Nothing. Forget it, I'm just being... Stupid. I-I should leave now. I'm sorry. I understand that you won't want me to return so... I'll restrain myself from doing it." Ed hurries over to the door, completely forgetting his gun on the floor and Oswald's earlier demand. 

"Oh..." He sounded almost, disappointed. But that couldn't be right. No, Oswald hates Ed. He's supposed to. Ed grabs the door handle, ripping the thing open. When he stepped out, he didn't see anyone hanging around outside. So maybe Ivy wasn't waiting there at all. 

"Um," Oswald tapped Ed on the shoulder. Ed spins around to face him. Oswald was holding out the gun, grip first. "You don't want to forget this."

"No," Ed took it, tucking it back in his waistband. He looked at Oswald for another moment. He looked so fragile, Ed wanted nothing more than to hold him in his arms forever. Did he mention that he'd missed Oswald? Ed tilts his head, considering. He didn't want to overstep, but he couldn't resist. He licks his bottom lip then leans in a plants a soft kiss to Oswald's temple. He went a little bit stiff, but didn't flinch or shove Ed away this time. Curious, Ed place his hand back over the same arm as before, gently. Oswald flinched again. Pressing his arm closer to himself. 

"Please, don't," he pleads quietly. Almost a whisper. Ed retracts his hand. Wondering, what was it about Oswald's arm that made him react like that? A hug and a kiss seemed to be fine, but touching his arm?

"Why not?" Ed couldn't hold the question back. He didn't want to pry, but it was starting to itch. Ed hates mysteries. They need to be solved. 

"I just don't like it." That felt like a half truth. There was something more there. Perhaps he had sustained another injury there, making his arm more sensitive? What about the left...

Ed put his hand on Oswald's left arm. This time, Oswald jumped back, swatting Ed's hand away. "I said don't." Oh dear. There certainly is a mystery there. 

"I'm sorry," Ed muttered. He turns back around, getting ready to leave. He knew he wasn't wanted, and didn't want to farther discomfort Oswald. "Goodbye." He walks away, looking for the exit. There was a metal staircase leading up to another heavy metal door. Ed pressed the push bar, the door unlatches and swings open. Oh. So that's where he was. He looks around, recognising this place as the entrance to the estate. They must have taken him into their basement. 

Ed leaves the building, not looking back. He wasn't sure if Oswald would want him to come back. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go back himself. Ed didn't know if there was anything he could do to somewhat heal Oswald. He seemed almost too far gone. It hurt. Really hurt. Oswald didn't have any self worth, or a will to live. Ed did that. He caused that. Shattered the man to pieces, and left him to pick them up on his own. Ed didn't deserve to be near him for that. He should just stay out of his life. Maybe he should resubmit himself to Arkham? Get his whole mind wiped clean with some electroshock therapy. He deserved the jolting pain and this point anyway.


	6. Not Everything Could Be Healed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald gets a surprise visit from someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this filler which may or may not effect the plot. If there is any plot...

Oswald watched as Nygma left, that all too familiar empty feeling consuming him once more. It was weird, wasn't it? The man who had caused Oswald to finally break to begin with, was now the one to give him some sort of feeling. Even if that feeling was only his burning desire to be released from his existence. It only seemed to occur when Nygma was around. Maybe that had only been twice, but Oswald hadn't had such an overwhelming _need_ for it in years. Nygma brought it out in him. Whether that was good or bad, Oswald didn't care. It was something, and something was better than nothing. 

Oswald left the basement, finding Ivy examining one of her many plants on the ground floor. Oswald shut the basement door, and Ivy spun round at the sound of the door click. She gave a sigh of relief and her usual bright smile. 

"Did you... you know, kill him?" Ivy asked as she approach Oswald. 

"What? No. Why would I do that?"

Ivy shrugs. "He deserves it. I have half a mind to do it, but I don't know if he's still of value to you. So for that reason, and that reason _only_ , I will not kill him," she explains, pulling Oswald into her comforting embrace. Oswald gives a slight amused chuckle, it was satisfying for him to know Ivy considered these things. But if he was being honest, he wasn't sure how much Nygma meant to him anymore. It was all so confusing. Sometimes Oswald missed him so much to the point it felt as though his heart would break again. Then other times, Oswald really thought nothing of the man. Those times tended to be when Oswald never really thought much about anything. Like he didn't care about anything, at all. And didn't Nygma just say that he would never come back? So what did it matter if he was dead or alive. Either way, he never wanted to see Oswald again. And Oswald couldn't blame him for that. 

"So anyway, what happened? What did he do? I can't help but notice you seem a bit... Uneasy," Ivy assesses, eyeing Oswald head to toe. 

"Nothing, really." Oswald gives a dismissive wave with his hand, deciding it wasn't best to talk about it. He couldn't very well let Ivy know of his deep, secret, impulse. That desire. Oswald simply didn't want to upset Ivy with the knowledge of it all. Add the bonus fact he doesn't feel it's worth any concern, and Ivy would give it exactly that. 

"Oswald," Ivy responded, firmly grasping his shoulders to prevent him from walking off. 

"He just apologised, that's all. Nothing, like I said," Oswald assures in return. 

"And did you forgive him?"

"You could say I did years ago. He didn't do anything I didn't deserve and you know it." Oswald had told Ivy plenty about what happened between him and Nygma. The things Oswald did to him. To everyone else, too. Oswald still believes he deserved what he got, and much worse.

"No. You didn't. I wish you'd stop saying that," Ivy frowns.

"Maybe if you knew me before... this," Oswald gestures to himself, "Then you would agree."

"You know what I believe. Regardless of what you've done, no-one deserves to be broken. Mind or heart. That's destroying the very thing that makes you, _you_. And that's a result worse than death," she reasoned. 

"Even if I did exactly that to someone I claimed to love?" Oswald shot.

"I think Nygma made himself break, Ozzie. I did read his criminal record. He's a downright psycho lunatic, and you didn't have any impact on it. You know how I know that? Because everything that made him that way either happened before your former friendship, or after your alleged death."

Oswald thought about it. However, it wasn't entirely true. If Oswald had never killed that woman Nygma was in love with, then the man never would have spiralled out of control. Never would have sought revenge on Oswald, hence forth, never losing his head and committing all those insane acts. So in ways, yes it was because of Oswald. True, Nygma was a little out of it before hand, but surely having your best friend hurt and betray you in such a way didn't help. It certainly never helped Oswald's case. Oswald was already cracked. All Nygma did was give him the final hit before he shattered. Again, Oswald deserved that.

Oswald doesn't respond to Ivy's theory. He steps out of her hold and starts up the stairs. He hears Ivy sigh before the sound of her footsteps following. Oswald needed a distraction. He's been focused so much on Nygma and the past recently, it's starting to hurt again. Like all his scars were being ripped open and bleeding once more. He curses that damn weight keeping him down, so he's forever drowning in those memories. The piercing agony of heartbreak and betrayal, were still fresh for Oswald. 

Why does his thoughts always trail back to that? Like he's taking one step forward, and two back. He can't get anywhere, but God has he tried. 

Oswald takes his knife back out from his brace for his minds distraction. He twirls it, and twirls it. Only his mind decided it didn't want the distraction. He finds himself thinking about Edward Nygma, _again_. Why? They'd only had two encounters so far, but he was already consuming Oswald's thoughts. 

Why did he seem to care so much about Oswald this time? Last time, he wanted Oswald dead. Now, he said he wanted to... 'make him better'. Something changed there. For Nygma to go from revenge thirsty, to whatever this was. Concern; Nygma wanted to know what happened to Oswald, why Oswald wants to die. Worry; He said seeing Oswald this way was scary, that it hurt. Regret or guilt; Nygma said it hurt knowing it was _his_ fault Oswald was in this state. He seemed desperate to help. Like it's an obligation or something. Did he want to help because he truly felt regret and guilt over the outcome of his actions, or because he felt like he _needed_ to. Why he would need to, Oswald has no idea. Nygma's supposed to hate him. So was all this new behaviour genuine, or just a ploy? In that scenario, Oswald wouldn't be objective to more torture.

"Oswald," Ivy suddenly starts out of nowhere. 

"Yes?" Oswald turns his attention to her. She adjusts herself so the security monitor in front of her was more visible, and points to the screen.

"Do you recognise these people?" she asks. 

Oswald moves closer, squinting his eyes to take a look at the figures on screen. There was three. Two women, and a large man. Two of them were armed, which is probably why Ivy decided to question Oswald about it. 

"I..." Oswald looks a little harder, trying to make out their faces. Looking at the pixels before him was a little difficult, given his one blind eye. Even with the lens, it was a challenge making anything from a computer screen out. And then he does. He makes it out, and his heart drops. Along with his jaw. 

"I take that as a yes," Ivy observes. Oswald swallows. He had hoped that _she_ would never come looking for him. Hoped she didn't even remember him. Though given what Oswald did to her in the past, he can't say he was surprised. After six years, she's finally here to settle the score. Although, Oswald's death was Nygma's right. It wasn't the knowledge that he was likely going to die that had Oswald terrified, it was the person who had come to deliver. Oswald stops playing with his knife, and starts to bite his lip. Hard. 

"So, what do we do?" Ivy questions. 

"Um..." Oswald thinks. He wasn't too sure. Whether him and Ivy went down to greet these people or not, they would find their way to him. "There's no point sitting around and waiting for them to come," he concludes. 

"So we're going down to see them?"

"Guess we have to." Oswald nods. He takes in some deep breaths, trying to steady himself. He cannot let his nerves show. She would get the wrong idea. She'd naturally assume it was because he's going to die, which obviously is not the case at all. 

Oswald's breathing was now under control, his hands stop shaking and he can feel his heart slow to a normal pace. He tucks the knife away, and leaves with Ivy to greet their somewhat guests. 

And it's much worse in person. Still as intimidating as ever. Oswald's heart beat spikes once more. Looking at her face to face was different. It had been so long. Their last encounter was not left on exactly positive terms. But there she stands, smiling. She seemed to light up once her gaze fell onto Oswald. The masked woman on her right, and the man, who Oswald could clearly identify as Gabe again, didn't seem as excited to see him. 

"Hello, Oswald." Oswald feels a chill run down his spine. It would seem that it was still unnerving to here her say his name. Especially like _that_. 

He clears his throat. "Hello, erm, Ms. Mooney," he swallows. 

"So you remember me."

"Of course. I could never forget you," Oswald assures. The worry in his tone is probably apparent, because her features soften even more. 

"Then you know you don't need to call me that," she informs. Oswald nods, not sure how else to respond. 

"Why are you here?" Ivy pipes up. Oswald could here the snide in her tone. Clearly she's oblivious as to who's standing in front of her, even though this person was responsible for her 'condition'.

"To chat. Sorry I couldn't stop by sooner, I was out of town. I didn't hear the news about your return until yesterday. I hope it's alright that I came by, though we both know I'd come regardless of how you felt," Fish addresses Oswald. Oswald simply gives her another nod. How should he be acting around here, exactly?

"Ok, well," Ivy crosses her arms, "Get to the point." Oswald quickly refocuses his attention on her, his eyes blown wide. 

"What are you doing?" he mutters to her. 

"Is she here to hurt you or not?" Ivy gestures to Fish, though not looking directly to the woman. Fish in turn, lets out an amused chuckle.

"My dear girl, I'm not here to hurt Oswald. You needn't worry."

"Then get to your point, and go. Please." Ivy utters that last part a little less aggressive. Then puts her focus on the masked woman in leather. She seemed to be the same person who had kind of stolen from them those weeks ago. 

"Call me curious, but I'd love to know just how you survived. Nygma went around telling everybody he shot you in the chest," Fish starts, her expression turning sour at the mention of Nygma's name.

"He did what?" That wasn't true, and even if it was, why on Earth would Nygma go around telling everybody that? To brag? To rub it in people's faces that _he_ was the one to eliminate the notorious Penguin? Is that really as far as his satisfaction went, that he needed to boast?

"He seemed rather proud of it. Shame for him though. Bragging about murder, it's what ultimately led that incompetent GCPD to hunt him down. With a little of my influence, of course. I couldn't very well let the bastard run around free knowing that he had killed you, Oswald," she explains.

"But he did a lot of other things along the way, why was it just because he 'killed' me?" 

"Couldn't let your murder go unjustified now could I, Oswald?" Fish sighs. But... Why would she care so much? The last time her and Oswald had an encounter, Oswald was going to kill her. She should have been glad Nygma had disposed of him. "You avoided my question," she points out. 

"What question?" Oswald blinks. The only thing he really registered was that Nygma went bragging about shooting him, in the wrong place.

"How did you survive a bullet to the chest?" she repeats. 

"It uhm, wasn't the chest. It was here," Oswald presses one finger to the area of his bullet wound scar. "And Ivy saved me."

"Did she now?" Fish cocks her head to look at Ivy and begins eyeing her head to toe. 

"I pulled him from the river he was dumped in and nursed him back to... Health," Ivy hesitates. Her and Oswald had both been using the term 'physical health' because neither one could deny that fact that Oswald's mental health wasn't fixable. Sadly, there was nothing Ivy could do to help in that department. She was too young to have done much at the time, but now it just felt like Oswald had been that way for too long. He believed his mental state was irreversible and he would remain this way until he died. 

"You hesitated," Fish points out, obviously recognising a story behind it. 

"Lets just say that not everything could be healed," Oswald tells quickly. Which was probably a mistake because the words make Fish raise a brow in suspicion. 

"Yeah, you're probably still a limping freak," the woman by Fish's side smirked. Ivy quickly snaps her head up to look at her directly, a scowl on her face. Oswald just frowns a little. Those two things separately always hit a nerve, but hearing them together just cuts deep. 

"Now now, Cat, there's no need for that," Fish tuts. 'Cat' scoffs with an eye roll, not really seeming to care. 

"You better watch it or I'll cut out your tongue," Ivy snaps. She had always been sensitive to the term 'freak' as well. And it always made Oswald feel just a smidge of worth whenever Ivy was there at his defence. Cat lets out a snort at the threat, clearly not thinking Ivy would follow through. She most certainly would, though, and Oswald wasn't sure whether to be proud or not. It may very well have been his fault she rarely resorts to some morbid methods. But he likes to believe it's all her. Back in Starling, Ivy had once ordered someone get their fingers removed because they dared to tamper with her plants. Oswald had found that more than a little amusing.

"Ok Ivy," Cat doubted. Ivy lets out a huff of disbelief. 

"No you're right, that's too good for you. I can think of one better," she sneers. Oswald knew what she was referring to. One of Ivy's private experiments with a carnivorous plant.

"What? You gonna take my eyes?" Cat mocks, a smug grin grew across her face. "Or would you make your _boyfriend_ do it?"

Ivy gasps and Oswald chokes, then look at each other with the same horrified expression on their faces. This was the second time today someone has assumed the nature of their relationship. While it's mildly amusing, it's also horrible to have to picture that whenever it's brought up. 

"Gross! He's so old!"

"I'm, not," Oswald shakes his head with a little smile playing at his lips. 

"Compared to me you are." Ivy nudges Oswald's arm playfully. 

"Thanks Ivy," he responds. He didn't exactly need a reminder of the fact Ivy is wasting her time being with Oswald. He knows she can do so much more, yet she insists on staying with him.

"Are we done?" Fish finally cuts in.

"That depends, what else do you want?" Ivy asks her, impatient. 

"Have I caught you at a bad time, Oswald? You seem tense. Unnerved," Fish assesses, ignoring Ivy's question. 

Oswald bites his lip again. Of course it was showing. You could rarely hide anything from Fish, she was always good at figuring people out like that. And she was correct. Oswald was unnerved, though it was because of his interaction with Nygma earlier. Even though Oswald's in an odd situation, which he'd ideally rather not be in, his mind keeps drifting to that other man and the way he was around Oswald. First he wants Oswald dead, now he... His new intentions are relatively unclear. And it's unnerving to know, or rather not know. 

"I... I am, quite," Oswald confesses. "But it. How I'm feeling doesn't exactly matter, of course you can be here regardless."

"If I'm correct, the Oswald I know would shout and scream to be left alone if he were to be feeling this way," Fish recalls. _Correct she is_. And Oswald rarely likes to be left alone now, for reasons unknown to himself. "Why is it your not demanding I leave? Or threatening me either, for that matter?"

"It's... Complicated?" Oswald shrugs, unsure what to say. He knows exactly why, but he doesn't feel comfortable just outing the truth in front of this audience. One person he doesn't really remember, another he doesn't really like in all honesty, and the other can't really be trusted with any person information regarding himself. 

"Very well. A conversation for another time," she proposes. And it wasn't a request, Oswald knows. She _will_ come back to extract that information from him and he knows she will catch him out in any lies. Again, Oswald feels she's always been able to tell when he's lying, hiding something. 

"So does this mean you're leaving?" Ivy cuts in, and the smile she wore was clear as day, fake. She grips Oswald on both his shoulders, for whatever reason protectively and pulls him ever so slightly back towards her. Fish gives Ivy another eye assessment, then wears her own fake smile. 

"I had more in mind to discuss, but it seems it can wait. I'll be back again," she tells. "Goodbye for now." Fish gives a flutter of her fingers, then begins to stride her way to the exit. Cat and Gabriel follow, saying nothing. Once they're gone, out of sight, Oswald releases a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Ivy spins him around and wraps her arms around him once again. Oswald returns the gesture, although confused as to why she's done it. 

"You're ok?" she asks soothingly. Oswald simply gives a nod. "Good. I could sense the tension between you two. You've had a history, and most likely a bad one at that."

"It wasn't always," he corrects. He slides out of her grasp to look at her properly. He could tell she wanted to ask what, but knows not to pry unless Oswald was willing, so she says nothing. 

"C'mon, I'll make you some peppermint tea. You can use some," Ivy heads for the stairs, gesturing for Oswald to follow. 

"I can tell you about it one day," Oswald informs, following his friend closely. He could definitely use some tea after this afternoon he's had so far. Now he has two people to worry about returning. Nygma, with his unknown intentions. He could return to kill Oswald at last, or 'help' him. And Fish to discuss... whatever it she wants to. Oswald thinks he preferred it back when people didn't know he was alive. Maybe he couldn't gather enough courage to leave his home, but at least then he didn't have visits from former enemies, seeking whatever they wanted. Which was another puzzlement. Why do they even care? They should either kill him, or just go back to thinking he doesn't exist anymore. Lack of knowledge concerning their motives, intentions, was certainly going to have a negative effect on Oswald's mind. He's paranoid enough as it is, he doesn't need this thrown into the mix. 

But if Oswald were to be completely honest with himself, he wouldn't mind another visit from Nygma. In fact, if he weren't so uncertain about their next inevitable interaction, Oswald may actually look forward to it. He isn't sure why. As far as he knows, he stopped wishing to see the man again years ago. Maybe years is an overstatement, but it definitely happened. He thinks...


	7. Always Crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bon appétit!

Ed knows he doesn't need to be here. He hasn't been here since before Arkham and caused him to miss four anniversaries. Whether it matters now or not, it was something Ed felt he needed to do before. Ed kneels down in front of the small metal plaque, which he had bolted there himself roughly five years ago. Since he had found himself paying frequent visits here as a result from whatever emotion he was feeling, Ed decided that leaving some form of memorial would be a relatively good gesture. Obviously Oswald's body was supposed to be at the bottom of the river (although, as Ed recalls, no-one had even uncovered it and there had been numerous searches) he couldn't exactly have a grave. Ed did his best to engrave Oswald's name on the piece of metal too, but it came out rather scrappy. He felt like that just made it more personal. Once the final product was finished, Ed spent just about an hour securely bolting it into the head of the pier and he had vowed to come back for every death-versary.

He places down the singular white lily he had brought along, and runs his fingers across the cool engraving on the metal. Once again, it seems to be raining. It always rained when he visits this pier. Ever since day one, where the deed had been done. Ed wipes away some of the droplets from the plaque, even though it was utterly pointless. The heaviness in his chest was still stuck there. He's guilty. He's full of regret. But this time it's for something different. It used to be over killing Oswald. Now it's over knowing what Ed had done to him. 

"I'm so sorry. That this happened and it's all my fault," he says. His fingers remain hovering over the engraving. It was rusted over now, which hardly came as a surprise. Ed felt bad for having this neglected for as many years as it had been and for breaking his vow. It doesn't even need to be here now, since Oswald has been alive all this time. Well, his body at least. Oswald's current mind was a different story. And this was the last place Ed had which he felt tied him to Oswald. He used to come here to provide some form of comfort, relief. After a particularly stressful day, Ed would come here and talk to the water, pretending it was Oswald. Ed would talk about his day, how he was feeling, then leave after saying 'I miss you'. 

Why was he here now? He doesn't need to be. Oswald is here, and he's alive. But Ed still misses him. It just isn't the same. He doesn't know this Oswald. This one is broken, and Ed is yet to fix him. He's tied between two decisions, two wants. He wants to see Oswald again, spend all the time he can with him since they've lost six years. He wants to heal Oswald. But he also wants to stay out of Oswald's life, lest he make it worse. The only two times Ed had seen Oswald, he was asking to die. Ed knows it him impacting it, Oswald had pretty much confessed as much. Ed was bringing out the buried suicidal wants and so if he really cared for Oswald, he'd stay away and prevent it from happening again... Right? It wouldn't be fair if Ed was to return just because it was _he_ who wanted to see the other. Ed's fucked up Oswald's life enough at this point. He needs to stay away. He needs to keep Oswald alive...

Though what good would that be if Oswald wasn't really Oswald? Ed made a mess of the man. Ed broke him. When you break things, you need to try and repair them before you deem them a lost cause. It wouldn't be entirely unfair if he was to go back for Oswald's own benefit, right? Ed feeling better about himself would just be a bonus. So, it wouldn't be making his life worse. No, no. Ed was going to fix Oswald. He owes him at least that, to make things as right as he can.

He gets to his feet with a sigh, giving the scrappy carving one last glance and leaves the pier. Two days. That was an appropriate time to wait, wasn't it? Oswald probably expects that Ed is never coming back, so would it be a nice surprise to be proven wrong? Or maybe he's come back to his senses and the next time he sees Ed, he'll attempt to kill him?

_Don't be absurd. You saw the state of him. There's no doubt he's left his killing days behind._

"What makes you so sure?"

_Has he tried to kill us yet?_

"No. But that doesn't mean anything."

_It means multiple things. The most likely being he's either left that behind, or he still cares about us too much to hurt us._

"Now who's being absurd?"

Ed pushes the old creaky door to 'his' apartment open. Since he'd spent four years locked up, he didn't have anywhere else to go to. So Ed decided to _borrow_ some slim little thing in the Narrows. It was horrible, really, but it was better than the streets. It was just one big open room, with the exception being a bathroom. Ed throws himself down on the mattress that was shoved into the corner, and stared at the cracked ceiling. Cracked. Just like someone he knew. 

_Don't._

Ed slaps himself.

_Don't think about it._

He lets out a low groan and rolls over onto his side so he's now facing the wall with peeling, rose paint. He removes his glasses and squeezes his eyes shut. The first image he sees is Oswald, and his empty eyes. Couldn't hide very well behind glasses. Ed could see right through the disguise. Why do his thoughts keep trailing back to him? He groans again, tucking up his legs so he's curled into a ball. He's not tired, but he believes the best thing to do to put his mind at ease is sleep.

He couldn't be more wrong. Instead of falling into darkness, he falls into yet another nightmare. Or was it a memory? Ed couldn't fully tell, given the side effects of his _therapy_. 

Oswald was there, tied to a car. Crying. He was crying. He was always crying. And Ed was... Furious. Why was he furious? He stares at Oswald, who could possibly have been begging for his life. Ed couldn't hear anything though. But. He could make out one thing by looking at Oswald's lips. 'I love you'. And Ed had always wanted someone to say that to him. Say it, and mean it, from the bottom of their heart. So why was Oswald tied up? Ed lunged forward, grabbing Oswald's face tightly. He was screaming something. He couldn't hear what. There was only silence, and the sound of a heartbeat. Then water. Silence, and water fall. He was standing on the pier. Why was he back here? Oswald stood before him, crying. He was always crying. 'I love you' Ed reads. He could feel the rain hit his skin, and a warm tear streak down his cheek. Ed looks down to his hand, shaking. He was holding a gun. Of course he was. And then he feels the recoil, the vibration run through his hand, up his arm. He looks into Oswald's eyes and... His face started to crack. _Not again_. Ed grabs a fistful of Oswald's suit jacket, pulling him closer. His eyes are drained of all colour and the tears turn into black lines. Ed pushes him. Oswald falls back, but it's Ed who ends up drowning.

He's back in that place. That black void, and the cold puddle beneath him. He looks behind him, and there's Oswald. Crying. He was always crying. Ed reaches out to touch him, but he disappears. And Ed feels like he's drowning. Cold surrounds him and fills him. A heaviness crushes him. He tries to breath. He can't breath. He wants to scream. He can't. He looks up, and there's Oswald smiling down at him. It was hollow, Ed could tell. And he disappears again, into a puddle. Ed gasps and...

He's fine. Ed gives frantic looks all around the room, trying to register exactly where he was. Then he realises, he's in that tiny excuse of an apartment. He lets out an exhale, placing a hand over his chest and feels his heart. It's racing. That was to be expected. Ed had no idea what the hell just happened but it was, to put simply, terrifying. He sits up and leans against the wall behind him. He pushes the balls of his palms into his eyes, swallowing, taking deep breaths. He's alright. It was just a nightmare... Again. Oswald was ok. Ed was ok. These nightmares were getting a little too frequent for Ed's liking. He sighs again, removing his hands from his eyes. After finding his glasses, he slips them back on and bangs his head off the wall behind him. 

_Just go see him, Eddie._

***

And there was that building again. It seemed to always send a chill down Ed's spine whenever he stood outside it. He thought it was something about the building, but he realises that it's the broken mess within that gives him chills. Because it was Ed's fault. Surely that's why it bothers him so much? He left someone like that, and that is inhuman.

_He got what he deserved, and we both know it._

"Shut up!" Ed hisses and bashes his temple with a fist. Oswald did not deserve this. Which is exactly why he's going to make it right. Ed guides himself through the building's entrance, ground floor, up the first flight of stairs...

There's voices. Ed stops at the top of the stairs, right by another large doorway. Curious, he pokes his head around the corner and there he sees Oswald. With his redhead. Ed couldn't recall her name, but in all honesty he didn't particularly care. He might be aware of the nature of their relationship but that didn't stop Ed from being consumed by boiling jealousy just at the mere thought that Oswald had replaced him. A shudder runs down his spine. Oswald loved someone else. Whether or not it was in a different manor, it didn't matter. Ed wasn't important anymore. Oswald doesn't love him anymore. 

_What does it matter? It's not like I, or more specifically you, reciprocate._

Ed shakes the voice away. Riddler was confusing him at the moment anyway. He kept switching between regret and satisfaction. Ed continues to watch the other two people before him. Their conversing comes to an end when the redhead reels Oswald into a hug, then disappears through a door on the opposite end of the room. Oswald sat on the nearest seat, and busied himself with spinning a butterfly knife. He seemed to be skilled at it, Ed observes. He also observes Oswald's painted nails, and the fact he was chewing on his bottom lip. He was wearing those glasses again. He must be embarrassed by the scar dominating his right eye, because it was always the red pair he wore. Ed wonders what Oswald's sight is like. Was it completely blurred without a lens to help him see, or was he extremely close sighted? 

After what he considers enough observing, Ed strides into the room. Oswald didn't notice. He looked to be deep in thought. Ed takes in a deep inhale through his nose, trying out a smile.

"Oswald," he greets as best he can without letting his nerves show in his voice. Oswald's head snaps up and makes direct eye contact with Ed, but hastily averts his eyes to the side. 

"You said you wouldn't come back," Oswald recalls in a quiet tone. Ed shrugs, unsure if Oswald saw it or not. 

"I..." Ed swallows. His throat seemed to tighten and the rest of the words get stuck. Oswald returns his gaze to Ed expectantly. "I..." Ed tries again. Why was it so hard? It was just a simple thing to say. 'I missed you. I couldn't stay away'. 

"Finally come to finish me?" Oswald puts in, raising a brow. Ed swallows again, shaking his head. What a ridiculous thing to suggest. When Ed finally stops walking, he's about two feet from Oswald. Ed stares at him. Behind the red of those glasses, there was still emptiness. He was also wearing make up around his eyes. He was chewing his lip again and he runs a hand up his arm. His bottom lip was dried and chapped from all the biting, but the same couldn't be said for the top lip. It looked alright, and Ed could still see some gloss of what was most likely recently applied lip balm. He wonders what it tastes like. Would it be sweet, fruity, or flavourless? Ed smooths his tongue over his bottom lip absentmindedly while thinking about it. 

"Well?" Oswald makes a gesture for Ed to produce his explanation. Ed blinks. His mind was elsewhere at the moment. He notices how after Oswald spoke, his tongue snaked out and ran across his bottom lip. Most likely to soothe the feeling of fresh bites. Ed's all too aware of how it feels to have your lips bit and nipped at too much. He takes in another deep inhale and, without really thinking, begins to lean down closer to Oswald's face. He just wanted a closer look... And Ed's lips meet cold flesh, along with the sound of a metallic _clang_. He opens his eyes, not noticing they had ever been closed, and sees that Oswald has placed his hand over Ed's mouth. He blinks again, moving his gaze to Oswald's own eyes. They were wide, still empty, but filled with either horror or confusion. Ed could feel heat rise in his cheeks. Embarrassed, he takes a few steps back, clears his throat and looks everywhere but at Oswald. 

"I'm sorry," Ed finally manages to choke out. "I-I don't know--I'm-I'm not sure why--I-I didn't-"

"-Just forget about it," Oswald cuts him off, scooping his dropped knife off the floor. Ed immediately complies and stares awkwardly at the other man. He watches as Oswald's throat bobs up and down when he swallows, and as he subtly tilts his head to one side. Why did things have to be so weird between them? Ed wishes he could go back to before he created this mess. He's wished that a lot. He'd dream about it back when he thought Oswald was dead and deeply regretted his choice. A lot of what happened during the first two years are just fractured memories, but Ed remembers the important things. Or at least, the things that were important to him. He remembers how desperately he had wanted Oswald back. Remembers the hallucinations. The empty confessions to nothing, or ones that would happen during a dream. He doesn't understand how he could ever hate Oswald, and there's been two periods in his life where he's done that. Everything would be so simple if he could just go back in time and stop his mistake from ever happening. 

"You shouldn't be here," Oswald finally speaks, turning his head completely to one side so he can no longer see Ed. There was a frown tugging on the corner of his lips, Ed noted. 

"Agreeable. I shouldn't. It's not fair for you, I understand that." _So maybe he should leave... Again._

"That's where you're wrong." Oswald returns to facing Ed directly, his empty eyes somehow having a piercing gaze. "It's not fair for _you_. You don't _need_ to be here. I know that you're just doing this out of your compulsion to 'fix' me. And surely if you stay around me I will inevitably ruin your life. It's just what I do. You're better off without me. Just walk away, make it easy on yourself." 

"But I... Is that what you want? Truly?" 

"You know what I want," Oswald deflects and starts turning his knife around in his hands. 

"That's not answering my question. Do you want me to leave?" Ed takes another step closer. He needs to be closer. 

"I don't think it matters, what I want. The decision is yours."

"It's not a hard question, Oswald. Just give me a yes or no. Please." Oswald bites his lip again, and he looked to be thinking. It shouldn't be this hard, right?

"I'm not good for you," he answers with. Ed sighs and decides to sit next to Oswald. He considers holding him, but that would be crossing a line, so he decides against it. Instead he just looks at Oswald as softly as he can manage. 

"I think you'll find that not having you isn't good for me," Ed confesses. The drugs, the killing sprees... It was all because Oswald wasn't there, Ed knows that's the truth. 

"I highly doubt that."

"You wouldn't know. I did some... Questionable things, when I thought you were dead. I don't remember much, but I do know I did them all because I was just lost. I-I was driven by a desire, a craving, to be known and to be feared by everyone. But that turned into an emptiness, the longer time went on. And I realised that I was missing something from my life. So when the hallucinations came back... I knew it had to be you that I was missing," he explains as best he can with his fragmented memories. Although, there a few memories Ed feels like he could never forget. 

"Your murder sprees and heists were because you missed me?" Oswald questions, utterly confused. 

"More or less, from what I can remember. It uh, wasn't a very good time for me. I know for a fact, that if I hadn't shot you then none of it would have happened. Oswald, I care about you and I missed you so much it hurt. I just want to have you back again, but only if that's what you want too."

"I... I do want you back. But I don't trust myself not to hurt you again."

Based on what Ed can see before him, he's guessing that their past has become a weight around Oswald and is keeping him down. He's stuck. He can't move on, because of what happened to him. And he probably feels guilty. Oswald never feels guilty... Ed knows he is going to have to find a way to cut the binds, and let Oswald know he is able to get past everything. But he doesn't know how to do that. He needs to be close, but Oswald would probably never allow that to happen so easily. He needs to be around, and let Oswald regain his confidence and comfort around him. And he needs to stop Oswald from hurting himself. Ed knows that being full of self-doubt and self-hatred can have massive negative effects. So he needs someone to stop that from happening. Needs someone to show him he matters, he's important. Give love and affection. And with all the things he needs to finally break free of his weight, Oswald will get better. 

But Ed needs to figure out just how to do all that. 

"Will you ever tell me all you've been through?" Ed questions because he needs to know what Oswald needs to get past. Oswald shrugs and starts to scratch at his left forearm. 

"Maybe. If I know I can trust you again. I don't really know you're intentions here, Edward. Maybe you're genuine. Maybe you just want to make me comfortable around you again so you can use my weaknesses against me. Destroy me all over again."

"Yeah... I figured as much," Ed sighs with a frown and watches intensely as Oswald just scratches something. But he stops when he catches Ed staring. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising."

"I'll stop apologising when I've made up for everything I've done."

"You've been forgiven already."

"But that's not making up for it, Oswald. And I am not going to leave you alone until I have done that. I am going to do whatever I can to fix... This."

Oswald stops scratching his arm, sighing (or groaning, Ed couldn't quite tell) and stands up. Ed copies him, probably standing in Oswald's personal space. He frowns, making that face he used to when you annoyed him too much or at all. And that was a good thing. Ed is quick to wrap his arms around Oswald's shoulder, and pull him closer. Oswald gasps, and Ed feels him tense his entire body. He was frozen. He was probably uncomfortable. But Ed just pulls him closer, tighter. He was cold. When Ed feels like he isn't going to get a response, he loosens his grip, about to move away completely. Then Oswald puts his own arms around Ed's middle, and squeezes him. He smiles. He was holding Oswald in his arms again and he doesn't want to let go. 

But he does. He lets go. Oswald's face is wet with tears again. He was always crying...


	8. A Thousand Scars Betray Me, What's Another One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and only draft so sorry for any mistakes, and sorry if this chapter (or the story in general) is a bit repetitive. It's been a while since I worked on this (obviously) so my memory of events that have already happened is really fuzzy. Reading my own writing is too cringe for me to do, so there's no proofreading or whatever you call it.

Oswald knew he was slipping back into a familiar feeling. Something he hadn't felt since before all of this mess. Back when he was somewhat satisfied with his life, had all he wanted. It was dangerous to let this feeling creep back up on him. It was stupid, too. He didn't deserve to feel like this but he also didn't want to. He wants to hate. He wants more than anything to hate. But he can't. He's become too weak and hate was a far too powerful emotion for him to feel. Oswald feels hate, of course, although it's for himself. He hates himself even more for allowing this to happen. 

He stood out on the rooftop of the estate, looking out into the city, clutching his knife. The cold air was nipping at his skin but he could barely feel it. As he was too afraid to step foot outside his home, being up here was the only way he could be outside and feel somewhat safe. 

Oswald did miss wandering the city, but with everyone knowing he was alive and having a lot of enemies, the fear kept him from going anywhere but his rooftop. Sometimes he wonders why he even returned to this place. So far it hadn't helped him feel better. He really didn't do much. The most productive he had gotten since coming back was helping Ivy with her business. Not that he could do that for much longer; she had taken up Fish Mooney's offer and decided to work for her. So Oswald felt like that was going to render him even more useless. He still doesn't understand why Ivy even sticks around. He had been nothing but a burden and had prevented her from living her teen years like she should have. 

He had really been questioning what the point in all of this was. He was really lacking a purpose and really didn't feel worth anything. So when Edward Nygma had come back again to see him, Oswald had gotten a little frustrated. He didn't understand why this man was even wasting his time coming to see him when he could be out there doing whatever it was the Riddler did. 

Oswald hear the fire escape door behind him being pushed open. Figuring it was just Ivy coming to check on him, he spoke. "Iv, I told you I wasn't going to-" Oswald cuts himself off when he looks over his shoulder and sees it wasn't Ivy standing there. "Oh," he huffs "it's you. Again. What do you want?"

Nygma gives a quick smirk, ignoring Oswald's question and goes to join him at the rooftop balcony wall. "You really like that knife, don't you?"

Oswald simply rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the city before him. Why wouldn't Nygma just leave him alone, if he wasn't going to kill him. "Clearly it's important to you. Sentimental value, perhaps? Was it a gift?" Nygma keeps talking. 

Oswald licks his bottom lip, trying his hardest not to bite down on it. "No it wasn't. I found it under a floorboard in our old apartment back in Starling," he tells, unsure exactly why he did. 

"And you keep it on you at all times, why?"

"Like you said. Sentimental value," Oswald shrugs. 

"What's so sentimental about an old knife you found under a floor?" 

"Why are you asking so many questions? My life doesn't concern you anymore, neither does why I keep the knife, so just. Stop."

"Stop asking questions or, stop coming to see you?"

"Preferably both. But I know you won't stop wasting your time to see me, so there's no point in asking, or rather telling, you to stop that," he sighs. He props one arm up and rests his head in the palm of his hand.

"You should know I won't stop asking questions until you open up to me," Nygma reminds.

"What makes you think I'll ever open up to _you_?" he fires back. 

"Oh please, Oswald. I know you will. You can't keep everything bottled up forever, and I'm betting you don't want to expose your little friend to every single thought you have, lest you upset her," Nygma deduces proudly. 

Oswald scoffs with another eye roll. "You're right. I don't want her to know, because it would scare her. If you think that I need to talk to someone to let my thoughts and emotions out, you are sadly mistaken."

"Meaning?" he prompts. 

"Nothing that concerns you," he deadpans.

"Come on, Oswald, why won't you just talk to me?"

"Why should I have to? You don't have a right to know. I don't want you to know! You won't leave me alone, and you won't kill me! So if you won't do one or the other on you're own, I just need to give you a reason to back off!" Oswald snapped, finally turning around to look at Nygma face to face. 

"What, happened to you?" Nygma was visibly taken aback by Oswald's miniature outburst. 

Oswald sighs. "A lot. I just don't understand why you keep coming back here."

"You want to know why?" Nygma asks, Oswald gives a single nod. "Let me put it simply. If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it was always yours. If it doesn't, then it never was."

"I don't understand. What do you mean by that?" he puzzles. 

"I let go of you, Oswald. I realised my feelings all too late, and I knew if I didn't try to forget then it would weigh me down and destroy me from the inside. But then you came back. You weren't dead, and it occurred to me that this was my second chance. To make it right. To get you back. So that is why I am so insistent on seeing you and asking you to just open up to me," Nygma explains and Oswald could swear he saw tears building in his eyes. But all he could focus on, was Nygma confessing that he had _feelings_. 

"I'm sorry, you had... _Feelings_ for me?"

Nygma shrugged. "It took a lot for me to realise and accept it but. Yes. I loved you. Having you back was a miracle, but seeing you like this it's- it's killing me," he admits. 

"Well, I'm sorry, but it'll take a lot more than that to get me to tell you anything," Oswald states. He looks away from Nygma to look at the sky instead. It was mostly just smog, and grey clouds but there was the tiniest hint of blue. Yet another thing Oswald didn't miss about this city. At least Starling had it's sunny days. 

"You don't care about how I feel?" 

"No. I don't deserve to be loved, and I don't want to be loved. You're wasting your feelings on me, you know that?"

"Whatever you went through after everything must have been... Terrible-"

"It could have been much worse," Oswald cuts him off. 

"But it should have been better!" Nygma argues. Oswald looks at him, raising a questioning brow. Nygma let out a bitter laugh. "We're going in circles here," he shakes his head.

Oswald raised his shoulders. "You're not wrong," he agrees. He takes his glasses off and rubs at his scarred eye. The cool wind had been irritating it slightly. 

"So what are we going to do about it? I'd love to get out of this endless cycle of repetition," Nygma inquires. 

"You stop coming here and asking so many questions. You won't get through to me, Nygma. I've put up thick walls. I will not be so trusting again. Especially of you." Oswald pushes himself away from the wall, putting his butterfly knife back in it's holster on his brace. He puts his glasses back on and makes for the door. 

"Fine. Have it your way, Oswald. I thought that you were truly different. Broken. But I can see now that deep down, you're still that same selfish little man you were when I tried to kill you," he comments. Oswald freezes. He presses his lips into a thin line and his eyes widen. "I guess no amount of suffering could change that."

Oswald looks over his shoulder, making brief eye contact with the taller man behind him. "Don't come back, _Riddler_ ," he orders, his voice shaky, and pushes the door open with force. Once he's back inside, he slams it shut behind him, speeding his way down the stairway. The sound of shoes hitting metal echoes all the way down, and he slams the door to his apartment shut too. 

He was feeling a rage he hadn't felt in a long time, but he also felt abandoned; which made no sense considering he wanted Nygma to leave him alone. At least he thinks that's what he wanted. But hearing the man actually decide to give up on him, it hurt. Oswald was convinced he wouldn't ever feel that pain again yet here he was. 

The emotions, they were making his nerves boil. He hadn't felt this much in a while, it was undeniably overwhelming. He was potentially on the edge of a breakdown, although how could a simple comment from Nygma cause it? It wasn't as if he had torn something important away from him again. It was merely an unexpected stab in the gut. He hadn't been betrayed, but it's what this felt like. 

Perhaps Nygma was right. Maybe deep down, Oswald was still that selfish man that he'd tried to kill. He was trying whatever he could to get what he wanted, he didn't care about what Nygma wanted. He didn't care that the other man had wanted to try and make things right. Oswald hadn't gotten what he wanted and had ignored what someone else wanted because of it. 

Oswald was just about to shut himself in his room again when he heard the front door of the apartment open and close. He takes in deep breaths to steady himself then turns around to face whoever had just come in. 

"I heard the doors slam. Is everything ok?" Ivy asks worriedly. Oswald let out a sigh of relief when he sees it's just her. 

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine," he lies. 

"I know Nygma was up there with you. Did he hurt you? I swear if he hurt you, I'll do it back to him a million times worse." Ivy approaches Oswald, her worry turning into fury. 

"No, he didn't Iv. It's me. I'm just, rather tired."

"You know you've used that excuse so much I can tell when you're using it as a cover up, Ozzy." Ivy frowns with concern and Oswald frowns too. 

"Don't worry about it. It was just a disagreement," he attempts to reassure her but it was clear she wasn't buying it. 

"I let him up there. I knew it was a bad idea, so if he hurt you that is totally on me. Please tell me what went on out there," she gently insists. 

"He just finally agreed to stop coming here," Oswald summarises for her. 

"That's good! Why does this have you so stirred up?"

Oswald shrugs. "I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't," he says truthfully. 

"Ok well, let me fix you a drink to calm you down," Ivy smiles and goes towards the kitchen area. "Oh and that wasn't a request. I'm making you some tea," she adds before Oswald can reject her words. 

He walks to their couch and throws himself down on it in defeat. He knows all to well by now not to argue with her when she says she's going to do something for him. He plays with his fingers while he waits to avoid biting his lips or nails, despite them being polished the usual dark purple. 

Ivy comes over with a fresh cup of tea, handing it over to Oswald. "Thanks," he says, taking it. Ivy joins him on the couch. 

"Do you believe him?" she asks, breaking the silence. 

"Believe what?"

"That he won't come back. Do you think that's true?"

"If he finally realised what's best for him, then yes. I do," he responds. 

"If he hasn't then he certainly will when I have a thorough talking with him," Ivy smirks. 

"You won't kill him, will you?" Oswald teases. He knows she won't, but he also knows she can get pretty ruthless which he admits he is pleased with. She learnt how to handle herself really well in this less than legal business and Oswald didn't even need to teach her how. 

"Of course not. You don't want me to, so I won't. But I will hurt him really, _really_ badly if I need to."

"I don't doubt that," Oswald chuckles lightly. 

"Yes!" Ivy exclaims.

"What?"

"You laughed!" she cheers, her lips curved into a wide grin.

"That was barely a laugh," Oswald denies.

"You just don't want to admit that I have the power to make you laugh."

"That's not true. I know you can make me laugh, and you're sweet for doing it," he acknowledged.

"And I'm glad I made you feel better."

"You did, and I needed it. Thank you," he manages to smile at her. He has always admired her ability to make him feel somewhat better whenever she catches him in one of his bad moods. It's a good thing that she can most of the time; if not he's more likely to end up hurting himself. 

Ivy takes a quick glance at the clock by the front door and frowns. "Sorry, Ozzy, I should get back downstairs. There's another customer coming in about five minutes," she apologises as she raises from the couch. 

"I've told you not to be sorry."

"See, that's you being over apologetic all the time getting me into the habit of it as well," she accuses, pointing a finger at him. 

"I'm glad that's the only habit of mine you've picked up on," he remarks in return. 

"Hah." Ivy goes to the front door, opening it, and takes a step back when she does so. " _Nygma_." Oswald looks over to the open door, his heart rate spiking for some reason when his eyes land on Nygma.

"I was leaving, so there's no need to tell me to," he informs, his voice cold and still.

"You should have left ten minutes ago. Mind telling me why you stayed on our rooftop all this time?" Ivy bites with venom in her tone. It didn't take much to deduce that she absolutely hated Edward Nygma. 

"Now who said I spent the whole time on the rooftop?" he smirks. 

"The surveillance cameras I installed will tell me."

"What did you think a camera was going to stop me from coming here?" he replies, with a snarky tone. 

Ivy groans, pulling a switchblade from one of her pockets. "Enough, Nygma. Get the fuck out, or I'll slit your throat," she threatens as she points the knife to his neck. 

"You didn't have to tell me. I don't want to be here any longer anyway." Nygma pushes the knife away from his throat, obviously assuming that Ivy was just bluffing; she sure as hell wasn't. He pulls the collar of his green jacket up straight, then walks away without another word. 

"I so wish you'd let me end him, Ozzy," she huffs without looking back at Oswald. 

"I know. You'll just have to wait until I've changed my mind about him." Oswald throws the rest of the tea down his throat, getting up off the couch and going into his room. His bad mood at returned, so he was going to try and sleep it off. Even if he's become insomniac, he was going to try. Not like he had much else to do around here anyway. Oswald wasn't even entirely sure what it was about Edward Nygma that had gotten him so worked up. It could be the fact he never left Oswald alone, or the fact he had decided to actually give up on Oswald. He had said that's what he wanted, but he was beginning to suspect that it wasn't entirely true. That deep down, he still wanted Edward to keep trying, to care about him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's going somewhere, honest! Just gotta build suspense. Lots and lots of suspense...


	9. Where Do I Belong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little obstacle is thrown in the way, after a supposed mistake was made. Oswald doesn't want to let Ed be right about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Victory dance* Finally, I've completed another chapter. Even though it's basically just filler, consisting of Os and Ivy's friendship. Honestly I've forgotten the whole plot for this fic. It's grown a mind of it's own. So I just hope I won't end up ruining it.

It was about two weeks after Oswald and Nygma's last interaction. Oswald still couldn't quite believe he had truly given up, after the promise (or was it more than one?) he made to fix him. He tried so hard not to dwell on it. He wanted that after all, didn't he?

The days since then had been empty repetition. So empty to the point of agony. Oswald wasn't really doing anything with himself, he _hated_ it. He did attempt to help Ivy with one of her new projects, but having no knowledge of plants and other things she worked with, it really didn't turn out well. She was planning something special, as a test of her skills which Fish had set for her. Oswald didn't understand what the Queen of Gotham wanted with Ivy and her skills. In fact, Ivy didn't really understand herself. She was just thrilled to be working for someone. That someone being _very_ important. And he didn't want to mess up her opportunity by getting in the way.

So Oswald left her alone, which only increased his feeling of uselessness. Losing the will to live also made him lose any motivation to do anything at all. He sat there, at the table in the centre of their little apartment. Carving lines, connecting them all together, into the wood of the table top with his butterfly knife. He didn't know what he was doing. His blade was starting to become dull; he'd need to get that sharpened. Even if he didn't really use the knife part of it for much. Oswald hoped Ivy wasn't going to be pissed he was ruining their table. It was expensive, rich, mahogany wood. Which Oswald was admittedly surprised about. Ivy picked it, and being as protective of plants as she was, it made little sense why she picked a wooden table. Still, it looked nice.

Strangely, carving this table other than himself was quite calming. Oswald couldn't stop thinking about what Nygma had said to him. Needless to say, it angered him a great deal. He didn't mind being angry; it was better than the emptiness for sure. Oswald wasn't even angry with Nygma. He was angry with himself, because it was true. He hadn't really changed deep down. He was the same, but with a broken layer. He couldn't allow himself to take that anger out on himself. It could end with him doing something he would regret.

Oswald bit down on his lip as he pushed the tip of the blade into the table top harder. How could he have been foolish enough to truly believe he was different? If he was, he wouldn't have tried so hard to get what he thought he wanted. He would have allowed Nygma to do as he pleased, if he truly didn't care. Whether he deserves kindness or not. It's not exactly up to him to decide. Oswald's grip on the handle of his knife tightens the more he thinks about it, causing his knuckles to turn white. He kept dragging the blade over and over the same spot, leaving a deep gash. 

With a frustrated sigh, Oswald threw his knife across the table. _What was he doing?_ Sitting here, feeling sorry for himself, wasn't going to help anything. He was getting nothing but annoyed out of this. Just as he was about to get up to see if his friend would like any help, he heard rushing and banging sounds coming from a couple of floors below. Oswald figured it was just a customer getting rough, so decided to wait some minutes until he thought it would be dealt with. 

He walked around the table and picked his knife back up, closing it and slipping it into the holder on his brace. He examined the marks he left on the top, feeling only a little bit bad. _Better the table than him_. Approaching the door, waiting for whatever chaos was happening to die down, Oswald continued to bite his bottom lip. A habit that may never cease. As he got closer, the sounds were getting louder. Much too loud. Actually, if he wasn't mistaken, it was like someone (or rather a group of people) was running up the stairs. 

Oswald stopped a couple of feet from the door. He was about to back up with it broke open. He couldn't help the startled gasp that escaped his lips as it happened. The door opened as wide as it could before bouncing back, trying to close. Oswald stared the lead intruder right in the eyes, then looked behind to count the total party. There was four men in total, so this must be serious. 

They all kept their guns pointed at him, and all he could do was stand frozen in fear. When he swallowed, it was painfully loud, he thought everyone else could hear it. More rushed footsteps could be heard climbing up the metal stairs outside, but these ones were lighter. 

"Oswald!?" Ivy's voice cried, then she came pushing past the group of GCPD officers. "Oh, thank goodness you're all right!" she sighs with releif, stopping her movement when she was right by Oswald's side. Her gentle touch to his shoulder snapped him out of his current paralysis and he shot her a small smile then put his attention back to the man less than two feet in front of him. 

"What exactly is this all about?" he tries asking as calmly as he could, determined not to let his nerves show. 

"They think Edward Nygma is here," Ivy whispers to him before he could receive an answer.

Oswald's expression morphs into one of utter confusion. "And what prompted this idea?"

"He's been sighted entering this building multiple times since his release from Arkham," Jim Gordon stepped forward, keeping his handgun pointed at Oswald's chest. "Care to explain why?"

Oswald runs his tongue along his lip, thinking about his answer. He couldn't say it was because the man wanted to 'fix' him, that would just lead to him needing to explain the meaning in further detail. "Nygma," Oswald starts. "Has been coming here, to attempt to kill me."

Jim falters for a second, lowering his gun at Oswald's words. Then straightened up, returning his weapon to it's original position. "That many times? And failed all of them?"

Oswald nods, as does Ivy. 

"Yeah, I ain't buying it." He takes another step forward and Oswald couldn't hide the fear that ran through his whole being. It had been so long since this had happened to him and it was easy for him to say he did not miss it. 

"Well it's true! What would Oswald want with that unstable psychopath anyway?" Ivy stepped forward too, invading Jim's space. 

"They were involved before. He could be protecting him."

"Excuse me?" Oswald's tone was laced with disbelief. "Have you forgotten what he did to me? Perhaps I should update your memory. _He shot me and left me to die!_ "

Ivy took a risk, slapping the gun Jim had pointed at Oswald down. She would rather it have been his face she slapped. He didn't bother raising it again, visibly brooding. Ivy takes this chance to speak up again. 

"What would he be protecting him from? And what for? Seriously, where did this absolutely ridiculous idea come from?"

"A couple of weeks ago he started wreaking more havoc on the city. Didn't leave a trace as to where he was hiding. Based off previous sightings, he figured he could be hiding out here."

"With the man he tried to kill?"

"Did you think this through? Or were you just looking for any chance to get to me again?" Oswald pipes up, an offended scowl plastered on his face. 

Jim stares at Oswald for a long, silent and tense moment. Ivy's just about to speak again when Jim charges forth, pining Oswald to the closest wall. Oswald let out a panicked breath at the sudden attack. A cry left Ivy's lips, and Oswald watched as Jim's men pointed their guns at her instead. She stood still, staring daggers into Jim.

"After everything you did here? You belong behind bars," Jim growls and Oswald sucks in a breath.

"Maybe once," he fires back. "That was a long time ago. I'm not like that anymore."

"If I find out you're hiding him--"

"--I'm _not!_ " Oswald insists, his impatience littering his voice.

"Why did you come back here Oswald?" Jim puts more pressure against Oswald's throat, causing him to choke. He only released the pressure to allow him to speak. 

"Why indeed," he sneers. Oswald was not about to confess his true desires. Not to Jim Gordon, and not in front of Ivy. 

"You shouldn't have."

"I realised that the moment _he_ failed." That wouldn't be enough to give away any ideas, right?

Jim seems to consider Oswald's words. Then realisation flashed in his eyes, and Oswald knows he messed up. _The man was a detective, what was he thinking?_ They stared into each other for what felt like an eternity. Jim's arm remained pressed against Oswald's throat. When he found the sincerity behind his eyes, he released him. But not enough for him to slip away. 

"You _wanted_ him to come looking for you?" Jim asks quietly enough that no-one else could hear. Oswald nods. "So he could what?"

"Finish what he started."

"Back when you said you were 'physically well', were you implying that you're..."

Oswald scoffed, rolling his eyes. " _Please_ , don't pretend to have any shred of sympathy. It doesn't matter the tiniest bit, so save your questions." His words had given Jim his answer. He did look at Oswald with pity, which only left him confused. Jim backed up, letting Oswald go.

"Are you _done_?" Ivy shoots, with hatred in her tone. Jim looked to her, then back at Oswald. 

"We're done. Sorry for the mistake."

" _Mistake_ ," Ivy echoes in disgust. Jim chooses to ignore her.

"We'll be putting look outs in front of this estate. If Nygma tries coming back here, we'll catch him." With his words, Jim motions for his men to back out. Ivy continues to give him her dirty glare. "And Oswald? Whatever you're going through--"

" _Don't_ ," Oswald cuts him off, pointing a finger at him. Jim sighs.

"I'm sorry." And with that, he makes his leave. Shutting the door behind him. Both Oswald and Ivy could hear his heavy footsteps going down the stairway. Only when everything has fallen silent does Ivy decide to say something. 

"At least they weren't here about our less-than-legal operations going on, huh?" she jokes in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Oswald sighs, shaking his head. 

"Maybe not letting you kill him was a mistake. It would seem as though he is still finding ways to get under my skin." Oswald didn't mean it. Not really. Despite everything Nygma did to him, and their time apart, he just couldn't desire his death. 

Oswald made his way into their kitchenette, opening up the cupboard which stored their teas. He pulled out the box of orange tea, taking a bag, then putting the box back away. He was still thankful Ivy got him into drinking these, otherwise he would likely be getting drunk senseless every other day. He did attempt it, a few times back when they first moved. But Ivy was simply not having it, and threw out his entire stash. She would destroy anything else Oswald would try to acquire and forced him into drinking tea instead. He hasn't had a drop of alcohol in six years. It would be nearing seven at this point, which was an unpleasant thought. 

"Here Os, let me do that," Ivy came up behind him, taking the tea from his hand as gently as she could. He stared at her hand then released a shuddery breath, allowing her to take it from him. How often things would wrack his nerves these days, it was irritating.

"Is your throat ok?" She runs a thumb across the redness of Oswald's throat. He stiffened slightly at the contact, swallowing as she examined it closely. He gave a simple shrug as his answer. Ivy sighs, frowning, she removes her thumb from his throat and starts to make the tea. 

Oswald walks over to the table, tilting his head downward as he looked at the marks he left on the wood. He runs his fingertips across it, comparing the texture of it to that of the skin on his upper arms. _What a mess_. He wipes out all the wood shavings, causing them to fall to the floor. 

"Hey, you know I was going to ask for your opinion on something," Ivy breaks the silence. Oswald's head snaps up to look in her direction. She started pouring boiling water into a cup.

"And what would that be?"

"Ah, you'll need to come downstairs." She sets the kettle down, taking a spoon and lightly stirs the liquid four times before taking the spoon out and setting it to the side. 

"Oh. If it's to do with your plants, you know I'm absolutely no use in that department."

"I offered to teach you all I know," she reminds him. Oswald thinks about that before nodding, feeling a smile tug at his lips. 

"Perhaps I should have taken you up on your offer. Maybe then I could have helped you work on your project for Fish."

"That's actually what I need your opinion on." Ivy stirs the tea again, the pops the spoon into the sink to be washed later. She grabs the cup, bringing it over to Oswald, careful not to let any spill. 

"Does that mean you're having second thoughts about it?" He accepts the proffered cup, blowing on the hot fluid before taking one small sip. 

"About something... Yeah," she sighs. "It's hard to explain. I'll need to show you."

"All right."

"Of course, finish that first." Ivy points to the cup in Oswald's hand. She was always putting his needs first. Even after all this time, he couldn't understand it. The only person Oswald wished would care for him like that, didn't. And if he couldn't, how could anyone. 

Ivy glances at the carvings on the table, then looks up to Oswald. The second her eyes meet his, he looks away, taking another sip of his drink. "Oswald, why did you scratch up our table?" she asks, her tone sounding like she was talking to a young child. Oswald shrugs and she raises an eyebrow in return. He still didn't answer so she hardened her expression. Oswald knew that meant he would be in trouble. 

"I was taking my anger out on it," he admits without adding the second half of the truth. Her frown quirks up into a smile, clearly accepting his answer. 

"I can get you something for that, so you don't need to carve this up." She taps her index finger on the table top as she speaks.

"That's quite all right, Ivy."

"Not for the table. You know what? I'm getting you something for your anger," she decides. Oswald opens his mouth, ready to protest, but she holds her hand up to stop him. "Don't even try."

He didn't need to be told twice. He immediately abandons the idea of arguing against her, and finishes up his tea. Ivy takes the cup from him, setting it in the sink for later as well and they both exit the apartment. She leads him down into her workshop, being sure to lock the door behind them. 

The blinds for this room were always shut, except from one window, leaving it illuminated only by UV lights and the smallest slither of sunlight. Ivy had different planters set up for each different type of plant, there being twenty in total. Along the left side, she had a workbench covered in spay bottles filled with water. There were other things on shelving units, things Oswald couldn't put a name to aside from Ivy's little gardening tools. On the back wall, there was a unit with glass doors which he had never seen before. When he notices a beaker full of glowing green liquid, he decides to question her about it.

"That? Oh, it was a gift from Fish. She said I may find it useful in my projects," Ivy explains. She walks to the unit, opening it up but doesn't pull out the beaker. Instead she takes out a few small vials of other coloured liquid. She closes the unit, taking the vials to her bench and sets them down. Oswald walks over and eyes them curiously. 

"What are these ones for then?" He picks up one containing a red liquid, holding it up to his good eye to look at it closer. 

"What I've been working on. I was left a recipe, which I may have altered slightly, to create these. Each one is supposed to give whoever consumes it... Abilities."

"Abilities?" Oswald lowers the vial, cocking his head to the side in curiosity. 

"Mm-hmm," Ivy hums. "I don't know _what_ exactly, but I was asked to make them."

"So this is what you've needed my opinion on?" 

She nods. "I'm not sure if I should really give these to her. I mean, I don't know what they're going to do or why she wants them. It could be dangerous."

"And I assume you've nothing to test this on?" Oswald hands the little vial back to her as she shakes her head. He thinks for a moment before giving his answer. "It could turn out to be a good thing. Is she going to pay you for it?"

"Only if it's successful in which case the minimum Fish offered was half a million each." Ivy took the vial from Oswald's hand, setting it back down with the others. Oswald's eyes widened.

"Minimum per vial? You should go for it. Surely you could try again if it's not successful."

Ivy puts her hands on the bench, leaning against it. There was four different vials, and if each one was successful that would be two million in one go. There wasn't anything to lose if it didn't work either, Ivy could easily ask for a second chance. Hopefully it wouldn't kill anyone. If that wasn't a risk, she would test them out on herself. She did like the idea of having special abilities.

"Ok." She nods her agreement. "I'll let Fish know they're ready and she'll probably come either later tonight or tomorrow." She picks the vials back up, going to place them all back in the unit. After locking the glass doors, Ivy glanced to the clock she had hung up. She checks the chart on her bench and a quiet sigh escaped her mouth. 

"I've got to go. Someone is supposed to be coming in a couple of minutes." Ivy starts walking back across the room to the door, Oswald following close behind. 

"May I help?" he decides to ask, not wanting to bare the feeling of complete uselessness again. Ivy looks back at him with a warm smile on her face. 

"Of course you can! I'd love for you to help out." She opens the door, letting Oswald enter first. Once outside, she locks the door again and they head down to the floor below. 

The shop door was also locked which doesn't come as a surprise. Some weeks ago, someone had tried breaking in to rob the place. Since that wasn't even the first time, Ivy decided to be more thorough about her methods. She set an appointment program into action so she could keep track of everyone that comes in and all the products these people were there to buy. There was no way she was going to risk all of her work be stolen. Not with how important it was to her and how dangerous it could be if not handled properly. 

Once inside, Oswald walks to the window in the front wall. He takes a peek outside, spotting two GCPD cars parked across the road. He wants to scoff at the action. _The audacity of that man_. His eyes continue to explore the street while Ivy opens up her note book behind him. She writes some things down, then turns her attention to the entrance when a soft knocking could be heard. 

The exchange went really smoothly. There wasn't exactly anything Oswald could have done to help out, so all he did was keep a watchful eye on the person that had come in. Nothing went wrong. What a way to help keep this feeling at bay. His eyes wander back out the window, seeming to find the world out there more interesting than in here. Honestly he was more than a little irritated by the cars parked outside. It made him feel even more nervous and on edge than he already was. He knows they're not there for him but the feeling was hard to shake. The quiet hope that he may see Nygma again any day now had been snapped. Oswald is fully aware the other man is no coward. He could turn up regardless of those spies out there, but would he be willing to risk his freedom for someone who had told him numerous times to stop wasting his time? Not likely. 

Oswald sighs, removing his attention from the window. He looked to Ivy who had just started punching a number into her little phone. Oswald reaches down, bending slightly, retrieving his knife from it's place. Flicking it open, he starts to twirl it around his hand. To save him from gnawing on either his lips or his nails. Both habits he would need to break at some point. 

He walks away from the window, pacing around the room instead, still continuing to play with his knife. He's surprised it hasn't fallen apart yet, having been used on a daily basis for the past six and a bit years. Questioning how long it had been exactly, Oswald bites down on his lip again. They came back to living in Gotham only three months ago   
(it certainly felt like a whole lot longer) that would mean there would be about ten more months before it would be seven years. He bites down on his lip even harder when he realises he's doing it again. 

Oswald stays around the shop with Ivy for the remainder of her open hours, doing whatever it is he could. Aside from the intrusion earlier that day, it had been peaceful. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting one as Fish would be coming back for Ivy's creations. Another unpleasant fact; they would be testing it out in their building. It's a good job they had a roomy basement. 

When it was closed up for the day, Oswald headed back upstairs and Ivy went out to get them some takeout for their dinner. As he waited, he decided now would be a decent time to fix up his knife. He retrieved the sharpening kit from his room, sitting at their table to do the work. The screws were becoming rather loose and Oswald hoped it wasn't going to fall apart any day now. It held too much sentimental value to him, even if it was just a knife. 

Just as Oswald was finishing up, the door opened. His attention snaps to the entrance, the thought of it being another intrusion being the first thing to push it's way to the front of his mind. He gripped the knife tighter but relaxed as Ivy walked in, carrying in a paper bag in her right hand. 

"Just me," she announces as she shuts the door and locks it. Oswald let out a sigh of relief. She comes over to the table, placing the bag down on the centre of it. Before taking her jacket off, she pulled out a piece of paper, presenting it to Oswald. "It's for you. Don't know what it is or who it's from though."

Eyeing it suspiciously, Oswald takes it from her. "So where did you find it?" He flips it around in his hand, only being able to see his name written on one side. 

"It was just there, by the main entrance."

Being too curious, Oswald peels the tape sealing it closed off, opening up the first fold. He doesn't even need to read the first sentence to recognise the handwriting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect an update within the next four months. (And yes, what happened is relevant to the non-existent plot)


	10. Accept How Bad It Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald and Ivy test her new creations. Oswald makes a decision which he hopes will help him move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah that's right, it didn't take me months to update again this time.
> 
> I think I'm starting to get back on track here. I have spent a lot of time re-planning this story so hopefully I don't forget what's going on again. Again this is the first and only draft because that's how I roll (((:

_"Look at what you did." The cold, empty, voice echoes all around him. Edward could not gather the strength to open his eyes. He knows where he is. He could feel the dampness beneath his feet, hear the droplets splash quietly. Icy skin touches his face, causing him to inhale sharply and his eyes jump open._

_" **Look what you did to me!"** Black seeped out of his chest, smothering his already pale skin in cracks. Edward looked up to his nightmare version of Oswald, meeting hollow eyes. The scar that ran across his right eye was no longer a scar, instead a deep gash of which deep red trickled out of. Edward couldn't turn his gaze away as the life began to fade from those eyes. He didn't know what to do. There was nothing to do other than watch as his nightmare of Oswald shattered before him. His skin turned to dust and with that, fell apart._

_Edward watched as the dust fell into the water, then disintegrate. The rain pour grew heavier, causing the water below him to rise at an immensely increased rate. His throat willed itself to unlock and he let out a cry that reverberated around the void his mind had put him in._

His eyes snapped open and he shot upright into a sitting position with a terrified gasp. His heart rate was through the roof, he had to take deep breaths to try and calm himself. Edward's entire body was shaking. He clutched a hand to his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath his skin. 

He took a final, steadying breath, letting it out in a choked stutter. Edward swallows thickly, taking in his surroundings. The old room was dimly lit by the sunlight seeping through the curtains he had drawn. He could vaguely feel it's little amount of heat hitting his body. He pushed the hair in his face out of the way as he got to his feet. 

Edward had been having more of these nightmares recently, and they were no doubt a side effect of the therapy he had been a victim to. He wasn't sure why he was afraid of what he was seeing. Of course it pained him to know that he broke Oswald a lot more than he had intended to, but not enough to make him have petrifying nightmares about it. Or so he had thought, anyway. 

Walking over to the small mirror he had hung up on the wall, he licked at his chapped lips. Stopping when he realised he was missing his glasses, he goes back over to his bed to retrieve them from the nightstand. He slipped them on his face, returning to check himself over in the mirror. His hair stuck up at the back and left side so he took his bottle of hair gel from the small shelf that was next to the mirror. He squeezed what he figured was enough onto his fingers, closed the cap of the bottle, set it back, then applied the substance to the necessary areas. Edward had done a sketchy job at cutting his own hair upon leaving Arkham and kept meaning to get it done professionally. It would have to wait longer though; it's not like it was a priority of any kind. 

He entered the tiny bathroom, removed his glasses and set them on the edge of the sink. He ran his hands under the warm water first, then switched it to cold and used that to splash at his face. He grabbed the towel which hung by the door, dabbed at his soaked face, put his glasses back on and left the room, throwing the towel to the ground as he did so. That was another thing he could sort out later. 

Upon reaching his paper covered desk, Edward pressed his hands against the surface, leaning against it as he started at his written plans. Something didn't feel right. He had been back at this game for two weeks now, yet it wasn't bringing him that rush it used to. There was no enjoyment to be had out of this and he didn't know why. 

Irritation burned through his mind, tingling his nerves. With an annoyed yell, Edward raised a hand and slammed it back against the table, throwing the papers off with a fierce swipe. They rustled as they flew away, falling slowly to the ground. His hand now tingled from the harsh impact it had against the wood. He propped his elbow up, resting his forehead in the palm of that same, shaky, hand. 

" ** _Having troubles planning your grand scheme?_** " Edward hears his own voice coming from his right, about where his bed was propped against the wall. 

"No." That wasn't true. He _was_ having troubles, but it was no big deal. 

" ** _Are you lying to me, Eddie?_** " 

Edward let out a sigh through grit teeth, starting to rub at his aching head with his hand. If he didn't acknowledge it, it would go away. It always went away when he ignored it. Or it used to, anyway. 

" ** _Listen, we both know what's really the distraction here._** " The voice sounded much closer now, his double was probably now a few feet away from him.

"Wrong. I know what the real distraction is," Edward straightened himself, turning around to face his other half. "And I'll never be able to pull this off with you constantly _winding me up_."

" ** _I see those fancy new glasses did nothing to help you. You're still blind as ever._** " Riddler's lips quirked up into a grin. 

"What do you want?" Edward finally gave in, his face twisted into a scowl and his hands scrunched into fists. His other self had been severely been getting on his nerves lately, and it was truly easy to say he preferred it when he'd been blocked out.

"I ** _want to help you. After all, we want the same thing. The only difference is,_ I _am willing to admit it and act on it._** " Riddler walked around Edward, now standing right by his left side, one arm slung around Edward's shoulders and was glancing around the table. 

Edward swatted the arm off himself as he adjusted himself to be angled toward the table, too. "So now you're going to help me plan this out?"

Riddler scoffed, shaking his head. " ** _Absolutely not. Because this--_** " he dramatically gestured to everything laid out before them. " ** _\--is certainly not what we really want. At least, not right now._** "

Edward glared daggers into the side of his doubles head. "No. We agreed it would be best if we let that be. We were not getting anywhere and we never would."

" ** _Incorrect._ You _said that, sure. I just made no objection thinking you'd come to your senses once you got over yourself._** "

Now it was Edward's turn to scoff. "Get over myself? I'm not the one whose--"

" ** _Shhsh. Don't finish that thought._** " Riddler held up a hand to silence Edward as he spoke, not turning to spare him a look. His eyes continued to search over the littered table top. 

"Why? I'm not--"

" ** _Shush!_** " 

Edward stopped talking, squeezing his fists tighter he could feel them turning white. He watched his double in silence until he let clapped his hands together. 

" ** _Aha!_** "

"What is it?" Edward looked to where he believed Riddler was looking, seeing nothing but crumpled old papers.

" ** _Time for you to step back, since you're being such a coward,_ I'm _going to have to take care of this._** " Riddler made a hand gesture to shoo Edward back. He doesn't know why, but he complied, taking two calculated steps away. Riddler pulled a blank sheet of paper towards himself, swiping a discarded pen off the side. " ** _Oh, and don't interfere._** "

"What?" Riddler started to write, and Edward tried taking a step forward so he could make out what it was. Except, he couldn't move. Trying to force himself into moving wasn't working; nothing would budge. He scrunched up his face in effort, attempting to even shuffle. Giving up when he realised it was futile, he let out a groan, going back to watching Riddler scrawl something out on the paper. 

Riddler stopped to think for a moment, tapping the pen on his bottom lip. Then his lips curled into a smile and he resumed writing. " ** _Oh I think he'll like this very much,_** " he says to himself, in a quiet voice. Once he was finished, he threw the pen back to the side, then slowly and careful folded the paper into three. He taped it closed then, tucking it into his pocket, he turns around to face Edward who held a very irritated expression on his face. Riddler simply shrugged. 

"What is that for?"

" ** _Hm, you'll find out._** " Riddler pushed past him, walking over to where their shoes were resting near the exit door. Edward tried to follow, but still couldn't move. Once Riddler finished popping the shoes on, he turned back to Edward again. " ** _And you're not coming._** "

Edward was about to speak, but as soon as Riddler left and shut the door behind him, everything fell to nothing. 

* * *

With shaky hands, he closed the letter. He put it away in his pocket, deciding to just ignore it. At least for now. If he had something to say, then he could surely do it to his face and not with a piece of paper. 

"Soo, what was it?" Ivy asks as she sets the food out. 

Oswald shook his head. "I have no idea, and honestly I don't want to know." He sets his knife down on the table, taking the recently used kit and put it back away in it's place. When he comes back through, Ivy was examining his knife. She flicked it open, playing around with it a little.

"This is very loose, you know," she points out.

"I know that, there's not exactly anything I can do about it. It's old and worn," Oswald shrugs, pulling out a chair to sit on. Ivy closes the knife and hands it back over.

"If you like, I can get you a new one?" she offers, taking her own seating place. 

Oswald puts it away in his pocket, along side the note. "No, I like this one." _Sentimental value_.

"I'm just saying, but I could even spice it up a bit. Instead of it being... Y'know..."

"Plain? Yes. I like it though. Doesn't need 'spiced up'."

"Well if you just so happen to get a new one for your birthday, don't look at me," Ivy smiles, winking at Oswald. 

He let out a sigh. "We've talked about that, too. I don't want you getting me anything for my birthdays, I don't want to even celebrate them."

"Yeah, yeah. Something about you getting 'too old' right?"

"I just don't see the point. I hadn't gotten a celebration for years before you threw me one. Without my approval, may I add."

Ivy shrugs. "I spent a lot of time planning that, and I liked it. I thought you did too."

"I did!" Oswald is quick to admit. "Of course I did."

"But I wasn't planning on doing it again. You asked me not to, soo I won't."

Oswald cracked a small smile. He still won't understand how she could decide to waste all she has on him and care for him as much as she does. But he will always appreciate the fact she does. 

Once they've finished up their dinner, Oswald retreats to his bedroom where he pulls the note back out of his pocket. He lightly runs his finger tips over his written name, a little too nervous to open it again and give it a proper read. It was only slightly upsetting that whatever was said, was written down other than being said to his face. He just hoped that it wasn't going to say they were officially done or anything along those lines. Despite trying so hard to push the man away, Oswald didn't want him gone for good. He regrets that it took almost losing him again to get him to see that. Looking back on their few encounters, he hadn't really behaved fairly either. 

With his fingers shaking, he gingerly opens the first fold of the note again. He looks at it without reading for a beat before continuing with the other fold until it was fully open. Taking a steadying breath, Oswald begins to read it. 

_Oswald_

_The last time I saw you has been playing in my mind over and over since it happened. I admit that experience, combined with our previous ones, has left me feeling rather perplexed. The less intelligent part of me wants to let you go, thinks we'd both be better off if I did. However, the smarter part of me isn't ready to give up yet. We've spent too much time apart already. I believe we have both paid for the hurt we caused one another. So instead of wasting more time, trying to forget it all or wishing for more punishment over it, we must accept how bad it feels so we can move on._

_Meet me where our story ended all those years ago, so we can start a new one._

_Yours,_   
_Edward._

"No riddle?" Oswald jokes to himself under his breath. He was expecting there to be one in there somewhere. Perhaps there was and he just wasn't looking hard enough. Maybe this had another meaning to it. 

Oswald sighs, reading the over the note again. Edward was right. They both need to accept how bad _everything_ feels. They've been doing this back and forth thing for what feels like an eternity. In reality, it had probably only been a month. If either of them truly wanted the other back in their life, then a new start would probably be what's necessary for them. 

What was putting Oswald off this time, was Edward wanted to meet outside. Away from the safety of his home. He hadn't left since he and Ivy first arrived back in Gotham, the thought of doing so was just too terrifying. The fact Edward chose a place that is associated with a traumatic event to Oswald was just giving him more reason to not go. Not that the note stated when he should anyway. 

Sighing, Oswald folds the note back up. He puts away in his nightstand drawer then goes to change into his nightwear. Ready to turn in for the night, he puts the lights out, settling in his bed. He spends a lot of time, staring at the ceiling and thinking about what to do. 

As much as he wanted to see Edward again, Oswald didn't think he could go. Thinking about that place always caused him to relive what happened there. So actually _going_ back would likely result in something worse. There was no doubt in Oswald's mind that he wouldn't be able to handle whatever it was. Even if it would upset Edward, even if it could end up with them never seeing one another again, Oswald was not going to go. He couldn't.

If he was lucky, then Edward would realise why he didn't show and try again. 

* * *

Oswald was practically dragged out of his bed the following morning. Ivy had walked in, waking him at nearly eight in the morning. When Oswald refused to get up, Ivy ripped the bed covers off him, telling him sternly that he had to get up. With much reluctance he did get up, spending about an hour in the shower before getting dressed up for the day. 

This process was always a drag for him. Having so little energy or motivation to get through his days made it hard to get prepared for them. But he wasn't doing this for himself, he was doing it for Ivy. He finished up applying his eye make-up, going a bit heavier on the eye-shadow in an attempt to mask the bags under his eyes. It wasn't exactly good work, but at least they were not so prominent. 

With that all done up, Oswald put on a pair of his glasses. He gave himself a long stare in the mirror, noting once again how he hates the way he looks with the glasses. With a sigh, he removes them, setting them down on the cabinet top. Returning his gaze to his reflection, he looks disgustedly at that awful scar. 

"As if I wasn't unattractive enough..." he mutters to himself. Inhaling sharply through his nose, he turns away from the mirror. Just as he was about to open the door, Ivy does it for him. 

"Oh! You are ready. Good, because she's here."

Before Oswald could form a response, Ivy grabbed his arm and tugged him out of his room. They only got a few steps before Oswald winced, letting out a hiss of pain. He bent down, clutching at his knee. Ivy turned around, gasping when she realised the issue. 

"Oh I'm so sorry, Oswald! I--"

Oswald cut her off with a wave of his hand, shaking his head. "It's ok, it's not your fault."

"I should have asked first. Lets go back and get your brace." She marched past him, back into his bedroom to retrieve the desired object. Oswald pulled out a chair from the table, sitting down while waiting. 

Ivy re-emerges with a smile, holding Oswald's brace. She helps fix it on and Oswald made sure it was right. Done that, he got to his feet and they both made their way downstairs. Ivy popped into her lab first to grab all the vials she needed; Oswald went on without her. 

He found Fish and six of her people waiting for him in the club area. Fish sat on one of the bar stools, two people planted right by her sides and the other four lingered about three feet away. Apparently she had also helped herself to a drink, or had someone make it for her. The latter was the most likely. 

They weren't paying attention to the entrance, so Oswald walked in feeling slightly awkward about it. Getting their attention wasn't hard. He greeted them with a more confident than usual "hello".

Fish turned her head, smiling surprisingly softly toward Oswald. He managed back a shy one of his own. 

"How are you?" Fish asked, skipping her own hello. 

Oswald opened his mouth to speak, something simple, but ended up stammering. Tripping over the letters. He swallows, clearing his throat to start again. 

"Fine." Was all he settled on. Perhaps not the most believable response he could have given but it was all he could manage. Fish raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. 

"You're hiding something," she concludes, pointing a finger at him. Sharp observation, Oswald swallows again. There would be no point in denying it, she would see right through it. 

"You feel it worth hiding... Something dissatisfactory." A statement, Fish knows she's right. "Not concerning the reason we're here today." Fish slips off the stool, getting to her feet in order to get closer to Oswald. 

"How could--"

"I know that? Oswald, darling, you had the same look in your eyes last time I saw you."

_Always so observant_ , he thinks. Says nothing. Waits for Fish to continue. 

"Just _what_ , I wonder..." She stops approaching him, standing little more than a foot away. Oswald has to fight the urge to look away when she stares dead into his eyes. Being under such an intense gaze, _her_ intense gaze no less, caused him to feel unsettled. It had been so long he forgot how it felt, to feel so small after one glance. 

She didn't get much further into her little investigation of sorts, before Ivy came bouncing into the room. It was clear she was very excited to present her finished work. Holding the rack containing the vials out to Fish, Ivy continues to smile. 

Fish takes it from her, carefully. Holding the rack in one hand, she takes out a vial with her other. She puts it up to her eye, examining the luminous liquid within. A smile graced her face. 

"We'll be testing these here," she announces, slotting the vial back. Ivy, surveying their current location, frowned. 

"Here? No," Ivy shakes her head. "We can do it in the basement."

Fish quirks her head, casting a glare at Ivy. 

"Cause, y'know, we don't know what's going to happen," Ivy is quick to add.

"Lead the way then."

Ivy turns on her heels, starting for the entrance. Oswald keeps close behind her, almost right by her side. He admires how she is able to remain so confident in the presence of Fish. 

Once in the basement, Ivy produces a syringe, holding it out to Fish. "You're test subjects are going to need to use this. I would not recommend drinking those."

Fish hands the rack of vials off to one of her people (yet another woman dressed head to toe in leather) before accepting the proffered syringe. She then plucks the vial containing blue liquid, the other woman stepping back out the way the second after. Fish motions with one finger for one of her men to come forth, who does so blatantly afraid. 

With the syringe filled with the substance, Fish commands the man to hold his arm out. She pushes his sleeve up out the way, injecting the needle right into him. The liquid being pushed in, she steps out the way, standing side-by-side to Ivy. 

Feeling nervous, Ivy grabs Oswald's hand. Squeezing it tightly as they all look on to watch what happens. Blue pushes it's way to the surface of the man's skin, showing the liquid's journey through his body. He kept wincing, indicating this was clearly a painful process. 

The blue pulsates through him. Upon reaching his face, he let out an agonised groan. It continues for all of twenty seconds, before fading and the man drops to his knees, panting heavily. 

"Is that it?" Someone from the back questions, voice laced with fear 

"I dunno," Ivy shrugs. "This is literally the only test." Despite how calm and collected she sounds, Oswald knew she was too, nervous. She continued to keep a tight grip on his hand; he felt the blood leaving his finger tips.

"How can we tell... If it's done?" their little test subject speaks through his pants, obviously strain. 

Ivy huffs. "Were you _not_ listening?" Oswald gives her hand a squeeze back.

Tension hung heavy as they all continued to wait for something more to happen. Ivy's focus grew more intense with each passing second. Oswald had to take his hand away from hers to allow the blood back into his fingers. When nothing happened for almost a solid five minutes, Fish walked over to the woman holding the vials and plucked out another.

"Wait, should we not see if anything has changed first?" Ivy steps forward.

"Do you feel any different?" Fish looks down to the man on his knees, who shrugs. 

"My nerves feel a little weird. Felt like they were on fire a coupla minutes ago."

"Hm." Fish turns back to Ivy. "You wouldn't happen to have another syringe, would you dear?"

Ivy sighs, taking out another syringe and handing it over to Fish. She accepts it, smiling to Ivy again. Another one of her men steps forward, and they repeat the same process. The results were the same, only instead of blue passing through this subject's body, it was red. 

Again, they wait a following five minutes or so for something to happen. Nothing does. Fish turns around to face Ivy and Oswald. 

"You used everything that I listed, yes?"

"Yeah," Ivy nods. "I didn't add in anything extra either."

"You could try another vial," Oswald put in.

"No. We shall wait longer for results before wasting more formula." Fish walks past them, making her way to the basements exit. Her people followed, Oswald and Ivy looked to each other. 

"Where are you going?" Ivy asks. 

"Upstairs. If you don't mind, I'd quite like another drink while we wait. I didn't get to finish my last."

Oswald shrugs, the both of them follow after Fish. Once upstairs, Fish takes the same seat at the bar. Her people stood back, and Oswald sat one space away from her. Ivy made her up a drink.

"Not having one yourself?" Fish questions, looking to Ivy, then to Oswald.

"No, that's not my thing. And I forbid him from drinking again. Even if it's just one little harmless glass," she explains, walking back around to sit next to Oswald. Fish shot him a very surprised look, but says nothing on the matter. 

While they waited, she had Ivy go over the process of making the substances. Ivy went over everything, in more than necessary detail knowing full well they wouldn't understand half of it. She took a lot of pride in explaining how she cut the plants in the correct ways and areas so they would feel little to no pain. That earned her some _looks_. 

By the time nearly an hour had passed, and there were still no visible changes, Fish grew impatient. Ivy continued talking about another one of her projects. Whether people were intrigued or not, Ivy absolutely loved talking about what she was working on. It was fortunate no-one really cared or understood, as that meant it wasn't likely they could replicate her work. 

When Fish stood, Ivy stopped talking. Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to announce what they were to do next. She remained silent as she took her knife from her pocket. Everyone's gazes grew concerned at the action. There was another moment of silence as Fish examined her knifes blade in the light, before she drove it into the chest of one of the men who had been injected. 

Everybody had about the same reactions. Gasping and eyes widening in fear. Oswald reached across and took Ivy's hand in his own again, afraid Fish would snap at her for failing. For the first time, she actually appeared to be scared in front of Fish. Feeling Oswald's hand come into contact with hers, she squeezed him. 

Fish huffs, going to the bar to retrieve a napkin. She wipes the blood off her knife before slipping it back to where it came from. "I apologise. I let my impatience get the better of me."

Ivy swallows, her gaze flickering between Fish, and the guy she had just stabbed. Oswald stands up, going by Ivy's side ready to protect her just in case she would be next. 

"Ivy, dear, I'm going to need to you remake those formula's. Test them before handing them over to me, do you understand?"

She nods, about to speak and apologise when a groan came from the body on the floor. Her attention snaps back to the man's body, as did everyone else's. He groaned again, wincing as his hand moves to grip at where he had been stabbed. They all stared, bewildered at what they were seeing. He got to his knees, retracting his blood coated hand. He opened up his shirt to look at the wound, only to find it was gone. 

Ivy stood up, amazed, walking over to the guy. She examines the area which should currently have a stab wound. "How interesting..." Ivy mutters. 

Wanting to test the waters, Fish takes her knife back out. She walks past Ivy, getting her out of the way, snatching up the man's left arm. Dragging her knife across his skin, he let out a pained gasp. Only mere seconds later, the wound began to vanish, causing Fish to grin. 

She let the guy get away, turning her attention to the other one who had been used as a test. He swallows, obviously knowing what was coming. He closed his eyes as Fish took his arm, repeating the action on him. However, this one didn't so much as twitch. 

"Marvellous," Fish comments, doing it again. "Do you feel that?"

He shakes his head, looking just as shocked as everyone else. Ivy comes up, grabbing his arm to inspect it. Her lips were curved up in a wide smile. 

"Amazing! It actually worked!"

"So it would appear." Fish tucks her knife back. She looks to the man on the floor, then back at Ivy. "I will need more of these. Now we know they work, I do believe they will come in handy."

"How many do you need?"

"Lets say, simply five of each. We can come back another time to test the other two vials." At her words, two of her people let out a sigh of relief.

"That's it then?" Oswald asks.

"For today, yes. A week. We'll return for testing the vials. I shall be back another time, to talk to you privately," she points a finger at Oswald, then motions for her people to leave. 

"Wo-woah, why exactly?" He tries not to let his panic be evident. Maybe he's successful.

"That'll become clear during our chat." She starts for the exit once all of her people had already left. "Apologies for the mess..."

Oswald and Ivy continue to stare at the door way after Fish left, before turning to face one another. Oswald bit down on his lip, taking in the spilt blood on the bar top and the floor.

"That was... An experience," Ivy says, looking at the blood herself. 

"She was always good at making a scene." Oswald walked into the backroom to get equipment for cleaning up the blood. When he comes back, he notices Ivy seemed a little odd. 

"Is everything all right?" he asks her. 

She gives him a shrug. "I thought I had failed, you know. She stabbed the guy, was clearly angry over it not working. I thought she was going to stab me next."

"So did I. But I would never let her do that. I would never let anyone hurt you so long as I am there to prevent it."

"What would you have done? Jumped in front of the knife?"

"Yes. That is exactly what I would do," he admits. She frowns at him.

"I'd rather get hurt than let you do that."

"You can't stop me from wanting to protect you." Oswald starts cleaning the spilt blood on the bar top as he speaks. 

"The same goes for you. If I want to protect you, you can't stop me from doing so."

"But I would protect you from protecting me." He ends up smiling. It was nice, knowing someone cared enough to want to do that for him. Ivy doesn't continue, aware that it would just go on in a circle. She enters the backroom, retrieving more cleaning equipment for the floor. 

"I wonder what the other ones do," Ivy sighs.

"The other... Oh. You could always test them yourself? If you did, that way you would know they work before handing them off to Fish."

"Yeah that's true, I guess. How could I test them though?"

"You know, the same way she did. Inject it into some test subjects," Oswald suggests, assuming she wouldn't be too afraid to try something like that. 

"I dunno. It's not like I can just go and pick someone off the streets."

"I'm sure you could figure _something_ out." Oswald couldn't help the small grin creeping along his face. Things like that should not bring him joy, not anymore. Ivy shrugs, getting to cleaning the floor. 

With that all done, she decides to start working on creating more of the substances. Oswald, deciding it best if he keeps out of her way, stays behind. He walks to the large window at the front of the room, staring out of it. Seeing those cars parked right outside caused him to feel slight annoyance. It was obvious to him, that if they were not there, then Edward would have come back. 

Oswald had been thinking about it all morning. He had started to feel bad, about making his decision to not go out. Hoping it wouldn't cause Edward to never try again. That thought did make him want to go. He didn't particularly want to miss an opportunity at getting Edward back. It was like what was said in the note; they had spent long enough apart already. 

Going out wouldn't be that bad anyway, would it? It was only a pier. Just the thought of it left him feeling... Terrified. He didn't really fancy reliving one of the most painful moments of his life. Going there would surely cause just that. The thing is, it wasn't really about him was it. Whatever Oswald wants, whatever he is comfortable with, was all irrelevant. Refusing to go for the sake of his own comfort was selfish. And he could not let Edward be right about him still being selfish despite all that has happened to him. 

Keeping that in mind, this would be a chance to prove him wrong. Facing it will be hard, yes. There was once a time when Oswald would face anything for Edward. _Can't risk losing him a second time_.

Oswald goes back up to their loft, having made his final decision. He grabs a jacket, slips on a pair of glasses, double checked he had his knife on him. Thinking it best not to tell Ivy, he makes sure to slip past her lab without being heard. His nerves were acting up like crazy. His heart rate had picked up significantly, his hands began to sweat and shake. Oswald stood at the doorway to the entire estate, looking out to the street before him. 

"I can do this," he says to himself, taking one step outside. The first time he is doing this since coming back. The first time he will see that dreadful place since... Everything happened. Of all the places in this city there was for them to meet, why did it need to be this one. Oswald decides to take his knife out, clutching it tightly, for comfort. 

It felt like forever before he finally ended up in the right place. In reality it was probably just about two hours. Immediately after seeing it, he felt like he was going to pass out. His heart rate was through the roof, he felt light headed and dizzy. Taking deep breaths wasn't doing much to help calm him down or steady him. 

Oswald had to prop himself up against the closest wall to prevent himself from falling in some way. He tried to get his breathing under control, inhaling deeply. _This was not the best idea_. Of all the places... Why here? It hadn't really hit him, the fact that he went through with coming out here and to this pier. He wasn't exactly there yet, but he saw it. It was just as unnerving as he presumed it would be and he felt like he was about to throw up. 

He gave himself roughly ten minutes to collect himself and push on. _It's just a pier_ , he kept telling himself. _Nothing bad is going to happen_. That was a little less easy to believe. When it came back into view, another wave of fear hit him. Oswald wanted to hide again, to turn around and run away. But he _had_ to keep going. _You need to accept how bad it feels, so you can move on_.

Eventually, somehow, he was standing right there. At the end of the place he has dreaded for so long. He was still in a state of utter fear. Stopping at the exact area he believed he was shot, he looks down and notices a metallic plaque bolted into the ground. Engraved on it, was his name. Clearly carved in there by hand; it was rather scrappy looking. 

"Oswald..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has remained this far (:
> 
> I'm going to try and update within the next few years.


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